The Destroying Angel
by WolfAngel'JR
Summary: How exactly did Barty Crouch Jr. join the Death Eaters in June 1981? Bookverse. Part of my Barty Crouch Jr. fanfic series.
1. Chapter 1: The Candidate

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Harry Potter world or any of its characters but they belong to J.K. Rowling. Before the story title, that quote about talking with a demon; it's from some tv-show's some episode, but likely not a word to word quote. I really couldn't remember which show or the exact line. So...just to say that it's not mine.

**Chapters:** 2  
**  
Authors:** WolfAngel'JR & DrRockter._  
Voldemort is __viewed and written by DrRockter_ and _Barty Crouch Jr. is viewed and written by me, WolfAngel'JR_. This is our role-play game topic, which I merged and fixed into a fanfic mostly form my Junior's point of view, translated it into English and changed the title. DrRockter doesn't have a pen name here. I have her permission to publish this.

**A/N **My Junior's looks come from the young Brittish actor Jamie Bell, at this era particularly as Griffin from the movie Jumper. This is part of my BCJ fanfic series. This story takes place in June-July 1981.

Voldemort's looks during this First War era turned out a bit AU in my fanfic universe because his player wished it so and I chose to use this story for the series. He does look somewhat inhumane, but not as much as Rowling described. Resulting in, he is not automatically recognizable to those who don't personally know him. **A/N**

* * *

"_If you talk with a demon, you may lose your faith. Every word is designed to trap you."  
_

**The Destroying Angel**

Chapter 1: The Candidate

The dark and pressing atmosphere of Knockturn Alley felt especially dark and pressing tonight. Not even the witches and wizards living in the alley dared to step outside, not even for a night at the local pub!  
But there were three shapes in the darkness, dressed in long, black capes. The man walking in the front was almost slithering, he was trembling and seemed to be on the edge of a panic attack. He tried to act braver than he was but tonight his master frightened him more than ever. Had he dared, he'd cursed the day he joined the Death Eaters. In the middle was walking a tall, imposing man, his face hidden within his black hood. He oozed dignity and self-assurance and no one at the moment dared to defy him and his status. You-know-who was on the move that night. The third man followed the other two with glassy eyes, joyful smile on his face.

Eventually the dignified man stopped at the end of a side alley, to a place that connected with the Knockturn Alley. The happy man stopped, taking a place beside him like a faithful dog. The trembling, frightened man stopped immediately when he realized his master had too...  
"Master.." he stammered, "i-isn't.. my Lord... w-what if the Aurors hear about t-this?" Voldemort seemed as if he didn't even hear, but lifted his hand to silence the man. He lifted his face as if to listen though he had heard nothing.  
"He's here soon, Nicory," Voldemort said after a while, "best if you start right away."  
"B-but, my Lord... _they know_!"  
"They don't know anything," Voldemort hissed, feeling a bit annoyed, "get yourself together, Nicory, and do as I say."  
"Y-yes my Lord," the man said, straightened up and stepped to Knockturn Alley. Voldemort raised his wand and set the Auror at Nicory with a simple order; '_kill him_'. A fire caught the Auror's eyes and he attacked Nicory without mercy. The battle had begun.  
Voldemort stood aside, watching the situation develop as he waited for a certain young person to arrive at any given moment. He couldn't be far anymore.  
Voldemort had gathered followers throughout the years, but so far he had no significant source of information inside the Ministry of Magic. He wasn't getting enough information about the Aurors' and other Ministry members' actions, this keeping him from rising to total power. He was close though, he needed only one man on his side, and the Ministry would fall.  
The man was Barty Crouch Jr.

A young man looked angry and lost when he apparated at the other end of Knockturn Alley, dressed in a black cloak, hiding his face under its hood. He knew exactly where he was and what for. He was lost only inside.

Barty Junior wasn't 100 percent Death Eater potential – that had the older Barty taken care of. The family was proud of their pure blood, but never blinded to their equal status in the colourful human race. That value was the reason why even now he wasn't consciously considering joining the Death Eaters, but these days that value was only a tiny spark smothered by the flame of thirst and bitterness. For over a decade he had searched for his father's approval as the boy he was, only to hear his father wish his life away and rewritten. He had managed to push the bitterness aside and try to live as his father hoped. In the end even that didn't seem to be enough. Junior had come to the conclusion that he'd never be good enough for his father, and the desperate fight for the man's attention during the worst years wasn't helping - especially as the family was breaking with the mother slowly dying. His last year at Hogwarts Junior had spent mostly planning how to make his father's life as hard as he felt the man had made his? How to tread down his dreams like he felt the man had done to him?

Throughout the past few years when father had gone on about muggles' rights, Junior couldn't help but occasionally think of how much easier everyone's life would be if the world did form out of only witches and wizards. There wouldn't be annoying laws about underage magic, the children could be themselves anywhere and any time, and he himself wouldn't have come to dream of any dreams but the kind that would be useful for the wizarding society and perhaps he would've better fulfilled his father's expectations. The thought had taken over easily for he had grown distant to his muggle friends from his childhood and found his best friends from Hogwarts. Friends, of which the closest just happened to be purebloods like him. Of course the thought was selfish, and he had usually felt ashamed of thinking with such a black-and-white and of wishing to go where the fence was lowest.

But as he wandered through the dark, unnaturally silent alley, his subconsciousness only fired up his need for a completely new life wherein at least someone appreciated him and his efforts, all his talent and not just the bits they happened to personally like – for a life, wherein he wouldn't feel alone or be in his father's shadow. He thought it was only a beautiful dream, so he had decided he'd go through life alone and stand only on his own side. His main goal was to destroy his father's ambition. Surely the boy still loved his father and longed for his approval, but for a long time he had no real desire or interest to show it. Bitterness combined to how he had nothing to hold on to resulted in his desire to make his father fall hard and from high, grew day by day. A feeling of power, he believed to help him bear all that he was missing. That's why he had stuck his nose into the heart of Knockturn Alley. Father hated and despised the dark arts and all those who practiced them, so this would be the perfect place to start from.

Just before he was to turn around a corner, someone ran past him and was followed by a blinding, green light that hit way too close to Junior's hood, and as these days a green light usually meant the killing curse, it had him immediately take shelter behind the corner. His wand he had held in his hand all along – these hoods weren't too safe anyway. Soon enough another man ran past him, and Junior recognized him immediately as one of Ministry's oldest Aurors – the most respected and feared right after Mad-Eye Moody. The Auror said the feared words, pushing Junior into conclusion that he was chasing a verified Death Eater. The Aurors were allowed to kill instead of capture. Without these little details Junior might have just moved on and forgotten about it.

Now he leaned against the wall, keeping an eye on the situation. He laughed at the man who didn't appear to be one of the bravest Death Eaters. First of all, he seemed to focus more on running away than fighting and second of all, his face was so pale that Junior could see it from the distance even in that darkness. Junior's gaze followed the man as he climbed the fire stairs up to the roof of a nearby building, losing the murderous Auror for a moment. Here Junior saw one tiny chance to terrorize his father's chances to be promoted. If the best of Aurors began to fail, people would start to question the Law Enforcements leader…

"Hey, dude! It gets really cold there! The Death Eater went that way!" he shouted after the Auror, and with his wand pointed at the direction he himself had come from, casting a spell. A hallucination of the Death Eater ran away at the other side of the alley when the Auror reached Junior. As Junior pulled his hood down, the man recognized him as his boss's son and trusted the information, heading the appointed direction. The real Death Eater on the roof stared at the situation, confused and without the slightest intent to come down.

For a moment Junior considered which charm to cast after the man, thinking for a second too long. As he tried to obliviate the man to make him forget he'd been chasing a Death Eater, the man turned around and the spell missed. Just in time Junior realized that this trick probably made the Auror believe he was a Death Eater in disguise, which seemed to become the case though in reality Voldemort cast another Imperius Curse on the man. Another Avada Kedavra split the air, this time aiming at Junior. Silently he created a wooden door between himself and the curse, and as it caught fire, Junior wondered why the Auror didn't speak a word and used only the killing curse. Self-protection sense however kept him focused on survival. Just before he disappeared behind a corner, he cast another silent spell at his "enemy" and with a wide grin on his face he ran wishing he could stay and watch - for according to the scream, it had hit. The Auror's hair was on fire good and well.

Chuckling to himself, Junior looked for a good place to keep on bullying this Auror for he started to get excited with the idea of making this man as ridiculous as possible in the eyes of the Ministry and possibly the society. Rita Skeeter's eyes seemed to be everywhere or if they weren't, she created a scandal out of the most insignificant hint, even if it meant 99 percent fiction. His smile faded as soon as a cruciatus curse flew too close to the top of his head, reminding him how Daddy dearest fought fire with fire. That perhaps this should be taken a bit more seriously. Growing serious, he cast the disarming spell but missed. Junior was very talented but not dumb – he was fully aware he couldn't stand for too long, against a professional Auror with a many decades' experience. At least one tiny disgracing effort wasn't worth the risk.

Voldemort had taken notice of how little words Junior used when defending himself against a murderous Auror as well as how the kid seemed to be enjoying the battle. Voldemort moved to the other side of the street so not to be in the way. He grew more and more interested in the situation. Barty Crouch Jr. seemed to be better wizard than he had believed him to be. The sooner he got the boy on his side, the better. Voldemort however felt a slight sting of suspicion inside him; the boy was talented, indeed, but might he be too talented? Added to magical power the boy showed some sort of faculty of judgment, cunningness… Cunningness…

Junior took much more distance and at the next killing curse he turned around, cast the stunning spell but fell to the ground, lifeless. Further away Voldemort became worried and a bit annoyed, and the Auror believe he'd indeed hit – (he was aware of being the second best Auror at the Ministry), and didn't see the light in Junior's eyes on the dark alley, and even less how Junior carefully lifted his wrist to point the wand at the man. Junior was reached not by a man but a little, fat chicken. He hadn't given the man even the dignity of being a cock.  
"That's about it," Junior stated calmly as he got into sitting position. "What do you think, will it be the Ministry? I'd be interested to hear what kind of a report you give to your boss about this night…" He grinned at the chicken pecking the ground although it didn't understand a word as also the brain and understanding had decreased to the level of a chicken.

Voldemort was pleased with the boy's performance, though of course some tuning needed to be done. First of all, _no one_at his service would transform the enemy into a chicken. Whereas it might be a blow at the Ministry, it would also be very disgraceful to the Death Eaters and himself. He and his authority were to be feared and no one should make it questionable. But now it was time to take action, for all had gone pretty much according to the plan – apart from Nicory who would receive his punishment in time.

Voldemort stepped around Junior to stand behind him and lifted the invisibility charm off of himself.  
"Very impressive," he said with a calm voice, staring at Junior with his dark eyes. He stepped closer cool and calm, glancing at the chicken, expressionlessly.  
"Yes, you fought well for such a young one," Voldemort said, sounding thoughtful and valuating and then lifted his face towards the boy, "what would be your name, young man?"  
Voldemort glanced quickly at the Death Eater still on the roof, who took the hint and disapparated away. Voldemort was left alone in the company of his young candidate.  
"Thanks a lot," Junior stated pleased with the praise, after glancing who he was talking to, without recognizing him, and got up from the ground. Voldemort had barely noticeable smile on his face for the boy's pleased tone about the praise but he felt disappointed that he didn't seem to have recognized him while Voldemort had thought every single witch and wizard would by now.  
"And it was quite a nice little fight... Although that, apparently a Death Eater, didn't seem to appreciate it..." Junior snorted. For a moment he watched the chicken disappear into the shadows and decided to look for a solution for his problems from the Ministry. He turned to take a good look at this man before even considering giving him his name. Junior squeezed his wand tightly in his hand but seemed otherwise calm. The man didn't seem threatening, but still as he couldn't possibly be from the Ministry...  
"And excuse, me but I reckon names are best kept as a secret these days, regardless of how pure one's blood..." he stated calmly, gesturing with his free hand that he wasn't going to reply and then started towards the main streets, away from the alley – but he didn't completely turn his back on the stranger and was ready to defend himself at all times. Voldemort could accept that he didn't get an answer but not necessarily completely the fact that Crouch was about to walk away without paying any more attention to him. Voldemort let his deep gaze stay on Junior's face.  
"This war is full of nutcases and I plan to live through it to see how it ends-preferably on my own side alone," Junior announced as he went, looking at the older man from the corner of his eye.

"People decide whose side we are on," Voldemort answered after a while. As if to support his words, he glanced at Crouch without turning to him. He too decided to walk away… or rather, 'walk away'. He took a few steps to the opposite direction than Crouch Junior, sure that a young boy's interest would stir and he'd carry on the discussion... After all the boy had shown some sort of curiosity by staying to fight an Auror a moment earlier… and the way he talked about Death Eaters. The fearlessness... If the Death Eaters or Voldemort didn't scare him, they interested him. At least this black-and-white Voldemort viewed the matter at the time.  
Besides, if the boy chose to leave, Voldemort could arrange another 'meeting', if needed. For Voldemort didn't have the slightest intent to _ask_ the boy to join him. His intent was to make the kid believe it was his own idea .This way Voldemort would keep the upper hand and the boy would never realize that he was needed. Voldemort didn't need anyone, he himself was needed. Without him those miserable Death Eaters would be nothing…  
"What's your point? In itself that would be unusual attitude for someone your age," he said, turning around to face the man but continued walking slowly. "I mean, it's usually teenagers who let the crowd decide for them or care what other people think," he went on with a sting in his tone.  
"Besides, you look like a guy who knows perfectly well whose side he's on and why..."

Voldemort, pleased with the situation going on according to the plan, turned to look at Junior.

"It's not about an attitude, boy," he said with a calm voice, letting the slight mockery slide. "I have chosen my own…hm… _side_ a long time ago," Voldemort said lightly, "I'm _on my own side._" Voldemort cast a short, meaningful look at Junior as he spoke the last words, and then turned his thoughtful gaze somewhere up, not focusing it to anything.

"In fact, you look somehow familiar," Junior said and didn't notice how he hadn't left to speak to himself but started approaching the man again – still always ready to defend himself.  
"I just don't recall meeting you before. Do you happen to be almost related to a celebrity, say, in example, to our current judge, Bartemius Crouch?" he asked half carelessly, still carefully approaching the man, the true degree of his curiosity revealed in his gaze which he kept in the man's face. He couldn't catch the realization that this man's being just oozed numerous same characteristics as his father's – that it wasn't about any specific outside look matter. Voldemort was pleased to notice he hadn't just stopped to chatter but was approaching him. The question had him turn his interested look back to Junior. He wasn't sure if it was a joke or an obvious hint? Voldemort stared at him and didn't blink.  
"That's it!" Voldemort exclaimed as if he had just realized something, "you're Crouch's son!" he gave a laugh and shook his head.  
"I hardly know your father," he said, nicely answering the question the boy had thrown half joking, "and I doubt I'm related either, sorry. A talented wizard he is, however..."  
Voldemort was silent for a moment and then shrugged for a sign that the discussion was over. He turned around to leave, but only to provoke the boy to carry on the discussion… It was now highly important that Crouch himself kept asking, kept on the talking... gathered information for himself, made his own conclusions about Death Eaters and Voldemort. Voldemort only needed to talk about his own business a bit better and of course question the Ministry.

In his mind Junior reviewed the events since the battle ended up until to this point. He kept approaching slowly. The man had done nothing to him though he had battled an Auror and even at Knockturn Alley. Instead he had praised his fighting skills. He claimed to have chosen his side long ago. He reminded him of someone but didn't know the father. All this pointed nowhere less than to the dark side.  
"You didn't attack or run away when you saw me fighting an Auror Making you a Death-" he started but ate his words as he recalled the way the man had spoken of being on his own side and as he realized why he looked so familiar.  
"No...!" he said, almost certain of being right. There was a hint of excitement in his tone. But he stopped, clenching to his wand and kept his gaze at the man's face. "You're _him_," he went on, only a slight doubt in his tone, for the pieces didn't quite fit yet. He raised his wand just in case.

Voldemort stopped with a wide smile on his face, which he however wiped away before turning back to the young man. Clearly things were going his way again and Crouch had finally recognized him, although it had taken outrageously long - at least in Voldemort's own opinion.

"But it doesn't make sense. You know who I am, but you haven't even tried to kill me yet. If you are Voldemort, why the heck wouldn't you want me dead?" Junior announced his conclusion and confusion, certain of that whoever this person was, he wasn't going to kill him tonight or else he would've done it already. And he said the name of the Dark Lord like any other name, there was no fear or anything else negative emotion. His father had never feared the psychopath at all – he couldn't even afford that, and thus the boy hadn't been taught to fear either.

"Put the wand away, boy," Voldemort ordered very calmly and steady, but Junior dismissed it as a joke. Voldemort wasn't afraid, the Ministry people and those on their side didn't have the nerve to use the Unforgivable curses in fear of a punishment. With the exception of the Aurors who had all the rights to kill the Death Eaters. But this boy either likely wouldn't even try to kill him. He would just get in trouble with his father who likely thought of everything illegal as penal.  
However, the boy's fearlessness did make Voldemort thoughtful. Of course fearlessness was only a good characteristic, but his own self-centred nature wanted every single living creature to fear him. Even his followers had to fear him so that his upper hand and authority would be secured. Still he thought the fearlessness to be delightful and nice change to the typical meetings.

"Why wouldn't I want to kill you?" Voldemort repeated the question, "I'm asking you, what makes you think I would want to kill you?"  
Voldemort had his own inkling about it and generally people assumed he killed every enemy he met but this assumption was somewhat misleading.  
"Because I'm basically an enemy and supposedly on my father's side," he started with the obvious, "and because some might think that my death would destroy my father and bring someone less eager to his place." His tone turned colder as his reasoning went on for he started to remember how alone he felt. Because there was no sense in just listing reasons for why someone should kill him, he added, "but in truth he probably wouldn't even notice… if even cared." Of course the truth was different but he could only speak what he himself believed to be true.  
"People don't decide anything for me. I'm independent, because I have no reason to support my father." He kept his eyes at Voldemort for he had no reason to trust Voldemort just because the man claimed no interest in killing him. Junior had made the conclusion that the man had somehow come to the same conclusion throughout the years and thus saw no use in killing him.

The boy has no reason to support his father, Voldemort thought. Was there something between the father and son that the son felt resentment for? He had taken a look into what was going on in the Crouch family but even he couldn't or didn't care to find out everything.

"You've got quite a black-and-white view of this world, boy," Voldemort said, still remaining calm, "and I draw a conclusion from your words that you believe everything the papers tell you. I can't blame you though, but I'd wish for a better judgement." To Junior, it was about carelessness about the truth more than about believing anything. Though, of course believing played its part – he was his father's son more than he wanted to be, and added to that he simply didn't have anything to base his opinions on than the media. But he didn't care how people interpret his reasons as long as his life wasn't at stake. Voldemort took a short break, thinking how to continue.  
"Of course, the Daily Prophet is naturally on the Ministry's side," he said slowly, "but even though you're basically and according to the papers and thus in the eyes of the society my enemy… Actually you're not. Why? Because I _always_ need a reason to kill and you have not, for now, brought up any characteristic for why I should kill you. You're not a muggle, or a mudblood... You haven't even threatened me in any way and I doubt you ever will. The fact that you're your father's son doesn't mean a thing to me."  
Voldemort took a short break again.  
"Besides, you just defended a Death Eater against an Auror..." he added and snorted coldly.

"Perhaps people don't decide for you but they will register you on either side sooner or later. Think of it; you're already now automatically on your father's side because he happens to work at the Ministry? This is completely their and the media's painted picture of you. No one asked you what you think; they assume you're on your father's side because you're his son. People have defined you, whether you want it or not."  
The truth hit Junior in the face and threw him into a hopeless interest in Voldemort's mind, for his father's way of thinking didn't fascinate him right now. And because father had never taken that neutral point of view and because he'd never thought Voldemort could do that. Barty Junior wanted to know who exactly he was supposed to fight against.  
"So..." he started, looking the way he was planning to leave but as he continued he turned to look at Voldemort,"what, according to you, is the truth about you?" His eyes told of sincere curiosity but not of will to embrace anyone's values and opinions. The poor boy was lost between need for independence and longing to belong to something.

Voldemort thought of his answer for a moment, letting his gaze along the street. The question was like straight from his plan, but now that it was really asked... He wasn't so sure anymore if he wanted to answer it - at least not as widely as he had once planned to. If he told all about himself, he'd lose part of himself with it. Besides, no matter how much he wanted that boy on his side, to fight against his father... He still couldn't be sure that the boy wouldn't right after this discussion run to his father, telling all about it.  
Finally he turned his gaze back to Junior.  
"As I said, the Prophet gives a very biased image of my undertakings," he then said, "the Prophet supports the Ministry's idea that I'm nothing more but a cold-blooded murderer, who only wants to kill. That idea isn't really even part of the truth..." Voldemort took a short break to think.  
"My goal is to create a society, that forms only of wizards and witches," he said, "Imagine how much easier our life would be if there were no muggles. I have never accepted the idea that we must hide what we are. Doesn't everyone have the right to be what they are and yet still we have to wear their clothes, in their world, always careful so that the wizarding society wouldn't be revealed."  
Voldemort took yet another break, and gave out a sigh.  
"If there were no muggles, wizards could lead a normal life... Freed of liability for muggles. I don't know what your father has taught you about muggles," Voldemort said, "but I don't think you can deny how much easier place the world would be without muggles."

Junior's look melted into open and understanding and for a moment he didn't remember who he was talking to. This was exactly how he had slowly started to think of the world when he had started Hogwarts, growing distant from his childhood muggle friends and from muggle world in itself for most of the years – and had to notice how much more pleasant life was when there was no need to pretend and hide what he was. However, equality, tolerance and 'with great power comes great responsibility' had been rooted into him well. He just had never been too good in taking responsibility... even for his own actions.

"Have to admit that I agree. I have for years..." His gaze had moved into the darkness of Knockturn Alley. But is it a goal worth killing for? Muggles hadn't hurt him in any specific way except perhaps seeming to be more important to father than his own family. Voldemort exulted in his partial win, but it fell awfully short in a horrible way.  
"But you don't just kill them, but torture too - even muggle-borns and not just their muggle relatives. The purity of blood is most important to you, they say. If so, why? Where does such deep hatred come from?" Junior wanted to know as he looked at Voldemort again.

The boy had started to lecture _him _about torturing and about killing muggles and muggle-borns. That in itself wasn't so much the reason for Voldemort's annoyance as was the personal question that had followed. How did the boy _dare_ to tent him about his reasons for his hatred of muggles. He screwed up his eyes as he stared at the boy intensively. There was a spark of hate in his eyes but in the darkness it was barely noticeable. Junior of course had understood he'd gone into personal business and thus kept an eye on Voldemort's being especially well.  
"My reasons to hate muggles will remain my business" Voldemort said, still remaining deeply calm, "everyone has a right to their opinions, I don't force-feed mine to anyone. Those who follow me think alike but most likely they have also their own reasons." Even though the man was calm, inside he was considering different ways to teach that cheeky kid a lesson. He really was impressed by the boy's earlier battle and some of his characteristics and that fearlessness, but the line had to be drawn somewhere. Poking around certain kind of information was against good manners.  
"Or do you wish to tell me your life story?" Voldemort added, "because if you think like me, you must have your reasons." He had to remain calm and pass on the punishment this time, if he wanted the boy to believe in his motives. But if the kid carried on the cheeky behaviour once he'd joined his force…  
"You said you have for years, done what?" Voldemort asked, staring at the boy, still considering. The boy still had a wand in his hand and it still pointed at him.  
"Put your wand away," Voldemort repeated sounding a bit fed up, "if I really wanted to kill you today you'd likely be dead already. You do realize that?"

"Alright, alright… It's just that I asked for the truth but I feel you told only part of it. And no, I really don't want to tell my life story." He snorterd. Still he found he enjoyed talking about the war's cause with his father's worst enemy. And the little warning bells seemed to be broken, as he continued.  
"I meant that I've agreed for years that without muggles this world might be a better place to live in. Especially for myself. Dad and I might have been spared many fights if there were no muggles and he dragged as to live here and fed me his somewhat contradictory values and dedicate his life to-" he spoke with increasing anger, but then bit his tongue. This was no use; he'd just be driven to think more and more of certain words from five years ago. Even though he cut off, Voldemort had heard more than he had even hoped for. He didn't comment on any of it even though he could have. Junior made efforts to think of something else and remembered Voldemort's last words. Still his ill mood and hurt showed through.  
"And yes, I do realize that, but I'm still not going to put it away. Why does my holding the wand bother you?" he asked, again in a questioning tone, clenching to his wand a bit tighter.

Voldemort gave a fed up sigh. Kids.

"Anyone would be bothered if the discussion's other side pointed a wand at them," Voldemort answered as he pulled out his own wand and aimed it directly at Junior's face.  
"Or does this not bother you?" he hissed, staring at Junior intensively, his wand arm steady.  
Within a second Junior's ill mood flew out of his mind's window. His being got all the vigilance back and he lifted his arm hand to a level on which he could defend himself if needed.  
"Ok, well... Very funny. Perhaps _a bit_ different matter! Behind that wand is many decades older wizard, who probably knows all the dark curses in the world and one doesn't even need a wand for all the spells. You're not seriously comparing this to me and my wand," he spoke as if he was debating with a big brother or something. Voldemort gave a joyless laugh. Finally the kid had realized at least _something_.

"Yes, this is a _bit_different," Voldemort admitted, "but if you think of it beneath the surface, it's not that different. I don't know you, nothing more than I've learned during this short discussion. When you fought a while ago you showed abilities that raise you above many wizards; you used silent spells. It's an undeniable sign of a talented wizard." Voldemort snorted coldly, "I don't believe you could do any special damage, but caution is a good friend these days, wouldn't you agree?"

Father had praised him and his skills and powers as a wizard in particular, but each and every time it had been related to getting the boy do with his life something the man himself though the best, instead of praising for no particular reason or out of personal pride. This of course decreased the feeling of genuineness of the praising. Voldemort, whose motive were the same, however made it _seem_ genuine, thus it registered to Junior in a completely different way.  
"How about I don't just put my wand away but go away, stop wasting you precious time in your mission. As much as making the world a better place is fascinating, I've been thinking to better only my own personal world tonight. I'm not even sure why I'm still talking to you, even though we have very little in common," he spoke a bit less calmly than before. Anyone would lose a bit of self-assurance if being pointed a wand at by Voldemort–-no matter how much he claimed not to kill. Perhaps his renewed will to leave the situation wasn't so much out of Voldemort and his wand as it was of his subconscious voices of which the other was warning and other rejoicing at a chance to get back at his father in the ultimate way. This paradox had him stare at Voldemort without really seeing, instead of disapparating immediately.

"Oh, boy," Voldemort said, "you just don't want to believe it but we have more in common than you think."

It was Junior's turn to give out a fed up sigh. He apparently had said something that had revealed something more in common. "Like what? How could I believe something I don't know?" He'd had enough of riddles and dancing around the means.  
"As far as I know we have in common the vision of a better society and pure blood in our veins," he started. Voldemort had made his statement in such all-knowing tone that it had Junior go on without any caution.  
"Did you have a dying mother and a selfish father? Did you grow up feeling like you'd deserve something better?" His tone was sharp and disbelieving for even though he realized other people were victims of the same or similar circumstances, he didn't think it likely this one in particular was one of them. And yet in the back of his mind he was thinking, so what if he was...?

"Well, of course we're not from the same starting points," Voldemort said. For a moment he considered if he should tell the boy about his childhood – actually answer the personal question - and decided to. After all it was somewhat public information as a certain professor at Hogwarts knew more about him than was necessary. He also came to decision that it might help him in winning this boy's trust.

"My mother died soon after my birth," Voldemort said, "I never met her. My father was a muggle who didn't want me but I was sent to a muggle orphanage, wherein I grew up until my eleventh birthday." Voldemort took a little break and added:  
"And yes, I do feel I'd deserved something better," he said, taking a short, intense break, "I would've deserved a mother… I would've deserved a father, who would've wanted to raise me. I can't blame my mother, but my father could've kept me instead of sending me to a _muggles'_ orphanage. No child should go through such nonchalance." The last sentence just slipped. The little Tom Riddle Jr. had momentarily taken over, but vanished as quickly as he had come.  
"Perhaps now you understand better me and my hate of muggles," Voldemort added in a very quiet and cold voice.  
Junior finally put his wand down and immediately after him, Voldemort did too. He even put his completely away, becoming seemingly defenceless.  
"Good," Voldemort said.

"_Really_...?" Junior stated and his tone oozed that he thought the story the most interesting thing in the world. His gaze wondered into the darkness of the Knockturn Alley, again. His heart that still belonged to his father in some essential aspects didn't remember it at the moment nor did it care about anything but what he just heard and about the vengeance of which the boy now had a bright vision. A small, cold and very pleased smile crept on his face. Barty Jr. felt absolute loyalty towards Voldemort even before he had decided if the idea was as great as it seemed. There was a new spark in his greyish-blue eyes, as if he thought he may have found a purpose for his life. But he still had many reasons not to run head over heals into the fire. What if he was revealed to the Ministry? Would it be worth it in the end? Would this painfully tempting new way of life be any better than the current hellhole? Did it have anything more to offer than the sweetest revenge?

His intense gaze was fixed into the darkness. He was leaning towards the wrong side of the abyss' edge, but made real efforts to keep his balance – because he was his father's son.  
"Tell me..." he started half to himself, until he turned his eyes to Voldemort's face with all new kind of light. "This very useful and fascinating cult of yours… Media can not tell us anything else than is shown outside. _If_I wanted to join and got in to your army, in which all ways it would change my life - apart from the obvious of course?"

Even though the discussion still included a little _if_, at the latest now Voldemort knew he was clearly winning. Deep within Junior already wanted to become a Death Eater. The boy wouldn't let himself think so just yet, but it couldn't be far.  
"It would depend on how much you'd be in the practical work towards the goal," Voldemort answered truthfully, "and on how loyal you'd be to me and my goal. It would be in your own hands how all of it changed your life. For sure is that Death Eaters belong together and once joined me, a person is always part of something bigger. You may be in a little or very, very much."  
Voldemort was silent for a while again, thinking of his words. If he now carried on the right words that boy was practically his…  
"But each Death Eater is an individual, a persona," he said, "my standard is very high by now. I won't take just anyone, surely you understand why without a need to explain."

"Of course," Junior commented on it. Each moment the path possibly opening ahead of him felt more and more right. This man had shown him remarkable appreciation and respect even during such a short discussion, so why not later too? And he wasn't bothered at all that the bond would be for life. Of course he had no idea what killing and torturing felt like. But it sounded like his opinion would really matter as well in common things as in his own part. _'Always part of something bigger... An individual, a persona... I don't take just anyone...'_  
"I could express myself without constant evaluation?"

Voldemorti smiled a little.  
"Of course evaluation would be constant," Voldemort stated, "I must hold on to some standards. But if one acts irreproachably and gives the cause everything, he gets respect and appreciation. The longer one is a Death Eater and the more loyal one is, the better light I see him in. Of course," Voldemort took a break and moved his gaze into the ever darkening night.  
"Loyalty will be rewarded," he said, looking back at Junior's face, "but disloyalty will be punished for. Becoming a Death Eater can't be out of a whim, it has to be given everything and, as the media too says all the time; once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."  
"But yes," he said in a moment, "as I said, each Death Eater is an individual and thus does whatever he does the best - as well in a group as alone. Thus it could be said that Death Eaters get to express themselves without constant criticism. I do keep an eye on my followers, but if there's no reason for doubt, there won't be a need for critic."  
"I repeat myself," Voldemort added once more, "It all depends on you."

Voldemort kept his face somewhat empty, but in his thoughts he was exulting in the win. There were a few little details that made him thoughtful; first of all, even if he did win Junior on his side, could he be totally sure to trust him as he needed to? The boy was the judge's son, it was undeniable truth. Secondly he was thinking if things were happening too fast? He was pleased with the boy's suppressed excitement, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to accept the boy so quickly. Should he prolong the game a little? Test the boy and his true will. Let him understand that he really didn't take in just anyone... Try to get the boy to prove himself..? On the other hand if he took the boy in immediately after he asked it, it would be the point of no return and he could work the boy into whatever he wanted... But when the boy would be a Death Eater, he could put the boy truly kill and torture muggles and he'd see the true Barty Crouch Junior. The boy would have no choice but to do as he was told unless he wanted to find out the consequences of disobedience.  
On the other hand, he could test the boy right here before taking him in and then more afterwards… supposing the boy was smart enough to ask for a place among Death Eaters.

Junior didn't recall being more sure of anything in his life. Still, regardless of his hate, bitterness and (at the moment) readiness to go extreme, his love for his family and especially for his father and longing for his approval, and the love he had received from his family, were so strong and been with him for all his life, that he knew them to stand between him and complete devotion to Voldemort. This he believed to be the most deceptive part of his inner life, so he closed it away into darkness, sure of that sooner or later Voldemort would try to penetrate his memories and emotions and interpret them. And this was what he wanted – he felt his father deserved as extreme betrayal as he could possibly come up with on Voldemort's side. He wouldn't let anything ruin it, and was grateful for his immense skill in Occlumency.

He drew a deep breath and took an eye contact, his voice was steady and sincere.

"So...would I stand a chance in joining your force? I assume I'm not the worst possible choice since you've used so much time in talking to me and answering my every question. You can be sure this is not a whim of any kind. I'm not suicidal - my intent is not to be killed by an Auror or you." He took a short break during which he remembered something that might be useful.  
"When I was fourteen, I studied dark curses, because they fascinated me and I took the practical studying on other students too. I had something to say to my father but he apparently thought that was just a whim. He forgot about it. I want to do something that he'll never forget, something that destroys him should he ever find out. It's not my goal though, for the longer I stay in the dark the more use I am for the society, you and myself." He thought for a moment.  
"Loyalty is not a problem. The Sorting Hat pondered long between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but sorted me into Gryffindor because I valued most courage, daringness – and loyalty. And I still do."

Voldemort was overjoyed for the win. He got the judge's son on his side. The boy asked openly, with bright eyes and straight back to join his force. The mention of studying dark curses made Voldemort believe he was serious. That the boy had studied them earlier (and even at so young age!) was an undeniable proof of deatheaterness not being a whim to him, no matter how much Voldemort would try pushing him that way. So what indeed would he do with the boy now that the time for the final answer had come?

He chose to lean towards questioning so not to give the boy a dependent image of him.  
"On the surface you let on that you're not waste of space," Voldemort admitted, "you've made some sort of impression on me tonight, but your latest words have made me question your motive. Why exactly do you want to join the Death Eaters?" Voldemort took a break and studied Junior's face very carefully to notice even the slightest reaction as well as it was possible in the darkness  
"You talk a lot about your father and of how you want to revenge him something, you want to _destroy _him. Yes yes, as we've agreed we have a lot in common, but now I've got a feeling you care a whole lot less about my goal than about giving your father something to think about." Voldemort silenced for a moment.

"I'm not interested in your father, not at all," he continued, "I am interested in the Ministry but I have no reason to revenge anything to your father, so in that light, if I've understood correctly, we don't have a common goal."  
"So you tell me now, exactly and considered, Barty Crouch Jr," Voldemort said in demanding tone, "if you truly want in, then why? And if I did take you in, what would I benefit of it? How would you stand out among other Death Eaters for your good?"

"I see," Junior stated calmly. The questioning didn't affect his being in any suspicious way, because even though Voldemort had been so very right and by that had Junior reconsider his application, the man had sounded as if he thought it was the only reason he wanted in. Junior raised his eyebrows, accepting the tone. His calm being remained also because he dared to assume, he wouldn't be the only Death Eater to who his own goal was more important than the leader's. It was so to anyone sane. And there was massive number of Death Eaters in Britain. Not all of them could be from the same starter point. Heck, some Death Eaters had claimed being under the Imperius curse or having been blackmailed in! Junior was too well informed about many Death Eaters' behaviour and attitude once caught, which automatically revealed the degree of their passion about Voldemort's goal. Junior had a valid reason to assume the vast majority of Death Eaters didn't give a crap about Voldemort's goal when it really was put into test.

Then he did as he was told; considered carefully before starting to talk again. He fingered his wand in his hands and seemed to be just rearranging bright thoughts into a clear entity. While doing so he grew distant and moved his gaze to the alley's darkness.

He threw himself back to everything he had felt during his teenage years instead of holding on to just the strongest one, the emotions related to his father-relationship. And because all he was about to go for essentially sprung from selfishness and during this longish discussion, deatheaterness had become a sort of an obsession to him–-the words came out with deep emotion and genuinely after all, even though they didn't come as straight from the heart as the first part had.

"Of course the motives related to my father are important to me and strongly driving because they're hopelessly personal and tormenting to me, whether I want it or not. And I also can't change the fact that since I was born I've been raised with values completely different from yours, resulting in me selfishly thinking of my other problems first. But the fact that I've given in to living in this society, really doesn't mean that I'd have blindly accepted the values and happy with them."

Only then, after getting himself for the time being, to care more about Voldemort's cause than he really cared, he took an eye contact again, after managing to lock away the hesitant and careless emotions. It was relatively easy with his Occlumency skills combined to how much he wanted to be a Death Eater and how he knew what Voldemort wanted to hear. However, fortunate to both of them, there was good amount sincerity in Junior's words about Voldemort's motives too.

"You too have acknowledged how talented I am for my age. I know I'm also exceptionally powerful in magic. A question has bothered me all my life: What good are all these powers and skills if I can't use them in all their potential, whenever and wherever I wish? As I said before, I have for years wished that I or any other wizard or a witch didn't have to hide – that we could live free." Now he let on he cared more about the freedom of magical expression than he really did and left untold how he used to dream of working among muggles in arts. These details he also hid away from his mind. Completely sincere was that sometimes he was genuinely and extremely frustrated in hiding his true nature as was that he genuinely felt that his life would've been better if there were no muggles. Thus on that he weighted in his reasoning.

"The existence of muggles has made my life too difficult for too long. And why?"

He took a little break to put weight on the question, his eyes still fixed into Voldemort's.

"I'm fully aware that it's not just because of my father. _The Ministry of Magic_has made a pointless and ridiculous problem out of muggles hating and fearing what they don't understand. It shouldn't be our problem. It's nonsense to respect lack of understanding and support it by hiding the truth."

Now there was a cold smile on his face.

"The Ministry talks about equality and human rights but at the same time they've stripped us off of an essential human right and make us live in the muggles' shadow. I see no equality in that. I want to belong to this world instead of hiding in its shadows just because a bunch of ignorant fools might get upset," Junior spoke with increasing passion. He no more listened to whatever reason he had left for now nor to his heart because as he was trying to convince Voldemort he came to think of just how much bitter truth was behind his words. While he also deliberately hid yet partly genuinely forgot that it wasn't all that important to him.

"It makes no sense to hide when we have the power and they have the attitude problem. Now that I think of it, purifying the blood is an excellent way of making sure this will never happen again. I _care_ about your goal and I _want_to fight for it. I wouldn't ask to join if your goal didn't interest me as much as my own because I could easily revenge my father all by myself – I don't run out of creativity that easily. But I don't think one person can make a difference for the entire world. As a Death Eater both of my goals could be reached. And just like my father and apparently you, I too believe that extreme always makes an impression."

He was silent for a moment, in order to let Voldemort consider all that had been said, and to think if he really had to state the obvious… but he chose to answer the last questions anyway. And after all this was his personal favourite part of his reasons as they again had much to do with his father.

"I could help a lot in tearing down the Ministry's defence and almost in any matter related to the Ministry. Our judge leads the war against you and he does it in as extreme way as possible and he's damn good in his job. But he has at least one weakness. Me."

The boy's cold smile twisted into a grin.

"He desperately wants his son to follow the path appointed by him. I believe he'll welcome me with open arms to just about any job at the Ministry. Most certainly I would get a place at the Department of Law Enforcement. I might _hear_ and then _tell_ you all kinds of stuff and _do_all kinds of stuff without anyone suspecting me. Dad wouldn't want to and the rest wouldn't know or dare to. Quite simply: The Ministry of Magic must fall in order for your goal to be reached and I don't think you can ever find a better weapon than me."

He left untold and hid from his mind that he was exceptionally talented actor. It would be a lot of use as a Death Eater but generally not something to be revealed seeing to who he was. Acting was nothing like lying. Even Voldemort couldn't tell well acted emotion from a genuine one and Junior didn't wish to cause unnecessary doubts after the somewhat sincere reasoning he had given.

Junior gestured with his hand that he wasn't going to add anything unless asked to. The boy studied him, curious and all the more self-assurent.

But to Voldemort's mind rose once again the thought of how easily the boy was turned. They hadn't been talking even for an hour and already the boy had started to consider turning against his father as extremely as it was possible. How long would it take for the father to win his son back on his side? No matter what the boy said, it seemed as if he… loved the father regardless of all the hate and bitterness. Bitterness always had a strong starter point. Disappointment felt always worse if it was caused by someone very close to you… So what would the father need to do to get his son change his mind? To give the boy really more attention from time to time, to praise him occasionally… To encourage him in his choices? If Voldemort had got the boy under his spell so quickly, the father would probably achieve the same even faster.  
So Voldemort would need to be very careful with his words in the future too, continue manipulating even after the boy had joined the Death Eaters. He would have to give the boy within a short time much more than the father had given him in eighteen years. It was quite a challenge to even Voldemort, but he believed he could do it.

He could read the boy like and open book. He spoke a bit too much about his family. It would be easy for Voldemort to offer him what his family didn't. He had to respect the boy's decisions, encourage him in his actions, support him in his choices and… do it all better than Daddy dearest, the judge. He would need to treat the boy better than he did the other Death Eaters, for the start at least.  
He had to win the boy's eternal loyalty for himself; the father had to be left with nothing.

Voldemort was silent for a while, studying the boy's determined face with interest. It read courage, curiosity, devilishness... bitterness.

Voldemort moved slightly, tilting his head in thoughts.  
"I understand, of course your personal motives go ahead mine," he said after a while, "it's quite... humane. I either wouldn't be here and thinking as I do if I hadn't thought my own business the most important. But as a Death Eater you should learn to push your businesses aside and take care of them only when you're not taking care of mine. If I ask you to do something, then my businesses are more important than yours, no matter what the situation." Voldemort took yet another break to think.

"Alright," he finally said, "you've convinced me… for now." Voldemort took a break, keeping his eyes on a bit too self-assurent Junior.  
"But as a newcomer you have to convince me with actions too," he said, "but as a Death Eater, of course, you can't afford many mistakes. No one can. But, as I said before, loyalty will be rewarded. I trust you've heard of the Dark Mark," Voldemort added, "it's a mark that connects the Death Eaters and links them to me. It's also… a kind of a tool with which I summon my most loyal followers together. On the contrary, a brave Death Eater may summon me. In any case... you're not getting it yet, but you will eventually; after you've convinced me with actions instead of just words. Consider it as the first practical reward."

"As I can't be part of the meetings before getting the mark, what do you want me to do now and up until then?" Junior asked and seemed ready to do anything. Voldemort himself couldn't be so sure that the boy knew what he was getting himself into but it didn't really bother him. Once he'd be a Death Eater, everything would go well in any case. Either the boy would bring him information from the Ministry until the end of time… or would get caught and destroy the judge Crouch. In any case, the Ministry of Magic was in danger to fall - it would be only a matter of time, when.

"Actually," Voldemort started to answer the question, "I want you to decide what you'll do. Be creative, like you wanted. Do something for me that you believe increasing your chances to get the final approval. Use your imagination. I believe you can come up with something very interesting, very valuable." Voldemort smiled very slightly.

"But do not go into the Ministry yet," he added as a condition. "I trust you understand that I can't yet trust that you won't tell your father and on the side the entire Ministry about this night. Your time as the most important member of the Ministry will come, but not before you're ready. Once the Dark Mark is in your forearm, you're an insider."  
"You get one week," Voldemort said, "to do whatever it is you're going to do. A week from now, you apparate to the graveyard in Little Hangleton, to the tomb stone of Tom Riddle. I'll be waiting for you there and hope you'll give me a reason to be proud of your doings."


	2. Chapter 2: The Constant

**A/N** Junior's father's looks come from the director Thomas Vinterberg. The words discussed in the beginning of this chapter were said in my story _When The Sun Turned Cold_. Heh, I just wanted to make a point to how badly I think Junior flips at the disowning in the upcoming trial and how his father totally doesn't mean even those words. More on that matter in my story _Screaming In Our Hearts_, plus as said, I'll be writing a one-shot on the Longbottom case itself too. **A/N  
**

* * *

**The Destroying Angel**

Chapter 2: The Constant

Ambition. That weekend he had a taste of how it felt and it was great when the carrot seemed delicious enough. But he couldn't see it as ambition. He just thought of the practical meaning of the intentions as revenge on his father's ambition. Sunday night he had fallen asleep at his desk after plotting and planning increasingly ambitious ideas all night and day and another night and day, locked away in his room with the one exception of fetching himself some sandwiches to eat and coke and coffee to stay awake. He hadn't wanted to waste one second of valuable time nor could he force himself to stop thinking of the endless seeming possibilities. He had to forsake most of his plans as too risky or not enough impressive. It was surprisingly tiring to just think creatively when it became an obsession and nothing seemed to be good enough.

"Junior, hey… wake up," he heard a voice echo through his dream as a hand gently shook his shoulder.

"It wasn't me!" Junior exclaimed groggily, springing up but remaining sitting in his chair. He had been dreaming of the past Friday night at Knockturn Alley and it had an unpleasant twist with the familiar voice entering it.

"And what is it that you didn't do?" Barty asked, curiosity and amusement mixed in his voice as he stared at Junior's waking face. Those words had in this kind of situation usually meant a curious dream the kid had been having – sometimes related to some real life crap he had pulled which still remained unknown to the parents.

"Aw, great… Dad…" Junior mumbled and rubbed his face to wake himself fully, giving out a deep sigh and then turned to look at his father's face.

"This time just my dream-world weirdness and I don't want to waste your time with it," he said with a genuine smile. For that blessed moment he actually thought it was just that, that it hadn't actually happened that Friday night. So he didn't downright lie but succeeded to convince the man who always seemed to know when he was lying, knowing his child too well regardless of the teenage years of growing more and more distant. As he turned his face back at his desk and looked at his random notes, he knew it was for real.

"Why did you wake me?" he asked then, noticing that the clock wasn't even seven in the morning yet.

"And it's Monday, right?" he added, and though the notes were likely incomprehensible to an outsider – even one that knew him well - just in case he, seeming as careless as he managed to, pushed them aside and away from sight. Especially because the man had sat on the edge of his desk, which must have meant that he was planning to have an entire conversation with him.

"Right. But you haven't sniffed fresh air for some fourty-eight hours, son. And apparently have eaten only couple of sandwiches and drunk nothing but caffeine. That's very unhealthy, you know..." Barty spoke, looking from the pile of coke bottles to Junior, his voice steady and calm and the look on his face worried and questioning. It took a moment for it to register to Junior, who just stared back at him, trying to decide if he heard right.

"What- I mean, you actually _care_?" he asked with a genuineness that scared even himself. He knew better than that, so why did he feel differently?

"Now, what kind of question is that?" Barty stated in half questioning tone, sounding clearly offended yet in his eyes was sadness of understanding he hadn't been showing it much lately. Still he felt that kind of a tone was uncalled for. So did Junior, who turned his serious face away to the window with a little, tired sigh, but he couldn't bring himself to say 'sorry'. Instead he asked in warmer yet somewhat bitter tone.

"So how did you know anyway? I thought you'd already moved your residence completely to the Ministry," he stared out of the window, his eyes dark and he wanted to sound more accusing but couldn't.

"I'm not that much at work," Barty claimed calmly, "but this time Winky told me."

Junior startled a little. What else Winky knew? He realized he would need to do something about the house-elf if he wanted to remain a secret Death Eater. He may have come of age but the older Barty was still the master of the house and thus Winky's loyalty and devotion was mainly to him. Barty however didn't notice this reaction even though he was staring at Junior, for he was too deep in his worried thoughts. He knew he had a myriad of issues with his boy but he just couldn't split himself well enough in two to deal with them, and to fight for a better world for the kid to lead a happier life in and cope with his wife dying. It was simply too much for one man to handle as perfectly as he might wish. Promises were easy to make and mean to keep but his family situation had gone too complicated, which he couldn't let himself realize just now. He feared the feeling of losing control. Especially of his own life.

"So what's going on?" Barty asked. Junior gave a deep sigh.

"This is just temporary. In fact I have been planning my near future," he stated and closed his eyes for a moment to already think of an answer to the question he knew would follow.

"Good! Care to share them?" Barty said, clearly throwing worries aside for a moment.

'_No,'_ Junior thought but supposed he wouldn't get rid of the man unless he did and he wanted to get back to his plotting and planning. But the basic caring shown a moment earlier pushed him into testing if there was more to It these days. After all they had pretty much avoided the topic ever since those days.

"What if…" Junior started, considering, "what if I told you they haven't changed? What would you say?" He looked at his father only from the corner of his eye but noticed the man was still disappointed.

"You're hopeless," Junior stated coldly, the look on his face grew from serious to sour.

"I didn't say anything," Barty sighed, fighting to stay calm. He was upset that he still wasn't strong enough to both, show his son his true means and show his dreams at least appreciation. Besides, by Junior's fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts he had genuinely been in the impression that the boy had changed his mind and that he had managed to encourage him on the path.

"But you thought of it," Junior whispered.

"No. You know I didn't really mean it!" Barty said, a hint of desperation in his tone. He'd do anything to make the words unsaid. He was fully aware they had been such that you just should never even think about, much less say to your own child. He had even considered to obliviate Junior's mind to make him forget but he had decided against it as it would've been just as bad violation of his mind and thus not right. And he had never been one to take the easiest way out of his own mistakes.

"Yes, you did! That very moment back then you did and that's enough, Dad!" Junior started to sound more and more worked-up. "Don't you get it? You might as well have wished me dead and have another child in my place!" The boy breathed deep but not out because he felt he might scream if he did, and sprung up to storm out but Barty grabbed him by the arm before he could. Gently but firmly, and he tried to get an eye contact.

"Junior, you've been seriously misinterpreting it. I _know_ you know I would give my life for you and I don't want another child. I told you then the reason I-" he tried to reason as calmly as he could in his storm of emotions. This basic topic of certain life choices always scared him because it was the only thing he just couldn't understand about his son at all.

"Don't! Just. _Don't_," Junior cut him off coldly, his eyes fixed on the door. What the reason had been didn't matter, the words did and that the man had meant them even for one second. As much as some of those current words moved Junior, he just couldn't let go. His father's love had always meant the world to him but his approval was too essential to him and would always be. "Let go of me. Please" he said after a moment of silence between them, during which he had calmed down and Barty reconsider the obliviation idea. Barty let go and much for his surprise, the boy didn't leave.

"I actually have other plans too. Kinds that you might like," Junior stated after a while, his tone cold and suggesting there was more to it. He just wouldn't tell the current plans exactly. "Suppose I came to the Ministry and fought by your side in some way. If we won this war and you'd very likely become the next Minister of Magic…" He had considered this before his dark ideas found their way to his consciousness, had considered it simply so that he could at least see his father more, even if nothing else changed. "What would you do then? Would you make any essential changes to our society?"

Barty raised his eyebrows at this somewhat unexpected turn of discussion.

"Well, I most certainly would end the time of Dementors. There would be no Dementors guarding Azkaban and no Dementor's Kiss used as a punishment. Those things are utterly inhumane and can not be trusted anyway."

"And…?" Junior asked, gazing at his face now with curiosity. He didn't actually believe he'd get the answer he was hoping for but perhaps miracles did happen? Would he change his mind about his current plans? Of course not. The matters driving his bitterness and hurt had just been proven to remain unchanged or not enough changed. But he wanted to test if this man had these days any sense in him for the society overall. Sure he respected and appreciated the Dementor ditching intent and it showed on his face, but it would better only the criminals' lives in prison, which he didn't believe he would ever be part of.

"And what are you looking for?" Barty genuinely asked. He couldn't find anything else too crucially wrong about the wizarding society.

Junior snorted coldly. "Nothing," he said, turning his gaze back at the door, "absolutely nothing. You just proved you have absolutely nothing to offer me." With that he finally stormed out.

"Junior!" Barty yelled and rushed after him, out of the door and to the front door. "That is not true! I love you and I want to fix us, but I have to fight this war too!"

Junior didn't slow down, didn't turn and pretended he didn't hear, though he heard every word.

'_Yeah, but you love Mum more. I wish I was at least more important than the war or your damned ambition!'_ He couldn't fit into his mind's puzzle that the man was fighting it also for him, for his safety and future.

"Junior, when this war is over we'll be like we used to be! I _will_ make this better!" Barty yelled after him from the doorway, in the most passionate tone. Junior didn't stop but he did turn to look back.

"It could be years! It will be way too late, Dad! _Way_ too late!"

At that Junior disapparated so that he wouldn't have to hear more. As he apparated again, he wasn't even sure where his thoughts had lead him. The first thing he did was start fiercely kicking over a mailbox, phone booth and whatever was in his way. He was fighting tears while his mind was wrapped around one painful thought: Another broken promise. It wasn't yet but would be. Inside he was dying for his father to keep that promise. That one promise and it would be worth forgiving for everything. But he knew it would be broken. He had eighteen years of experience on his father's ambition and the several ways it blinded the man. But the worst thing killing his faith was that the man didn't seem to care enough to fix the most crucial matter. Didn't seem to care enough to try his hardest now.

'_Five fucking year__s and he still disapproves!'_, Junior roared in his mind as he grew tired of trying to break things.

He stood there and took a few deep breathes to calm down. Of course he realized now that if he fought for Voldemort and if they actually won the war and eventually there would be no muggles and only pure-blood wizards and witches, he would have killed his own dreams. But that's why revenge was his driving force. It was all or nothing to him now. If he couldn't reach his dreams with his father's approval, he didn't want them as much as he wanted to destroy the man's ambition which he felt was the reason why the disapproval existed. If he wasn't allowed to freely build his own kind of life and get support for it, why should he allow father to build his life and support him in it? It wasn't fair!

He decided not to go home this week. He actually seriously considered moving completely away, somewhere, anywhere but home. After all he was come-of-age in both worlds and he'd have every right to. The man would probably just try dancing around his mistakes and responsibilities for his family, give excuses to not try harder right now, make promises he would end up breaking but which would've had this hopeless Daddy's boy still foolishly hold on to, more or less. Junior didn't see at all how he expected his father to be some sort of a superhuman, because he didn't recognize the feeling deep within his heart as almost the level of worship. In his mind he mostly remembered the bad things now but in his heart he also held the man who had once let him be himself, whom he had known and loved as the little boy he was before Hogwarts. Before his mother got ill… Before everything started to change.

'…_I love you…'_ echoed in his head but it felt wrong. Because even though he knew the man indeed loved him, and he held on to those words, it still didn't ease the pain. Sometimes love just wasn't enough, at least not when it failed to show in some essential ways.

It was then when he found he had apparated to the front yard of St. Mungo's hospital. He stared at the building silently with absent-minded eyes, in the light of the rising summer sun.

'_Sorry, Mum, it's the only way. I was always his. Yo__u know that.'_

Was his Daddy right? Was their strong but suffering love enough in the end to save them? He guessed he'd find it out one day. Right now he just yearned to see what life of a Death Eater had to offer him... and if Voldemort was better at keeping promises. However, certain, sweetest revenge was more than enough for a starter point to him. It was what he needed meanwhile, to make it through in this world over-shadowed with darkness and sorrow where he felt so alone.

He wandered around, deep in his thoughts, going nowhere, just trying to catch the latest idea he had had before he'd fallen asleep and Dad had appeared to confuse his mind and heart he had thought to be more made up already. Well, it certainly was now. He had also started to consider he would in the end reveal to the man that he had become a Death Eater. Just for the heck of it! But not until years of revenge at the service of his worst enemy, he thought. After a while he forced himself to stop dreaming and start planning how to first get into the position to do all that. How to convince the Dark Lord… who believed in him? Hadn't he said something like that?

Junior decided to rewind to the moment he met Voldemort in person. Which lead him to remember why he had fought the Auror. He started to develop the idea of disgracing the Aurors and the entire Ministry. Voldemort had forbidden him to enter the Ministry but that didn't need to be a problem. Couple of hours later he went back home, knowing his father to have left for work. He spent most of the day looking through whatever papers he could find from the mann's home office, about the Auror Department. He found so much information he could've come up with numerous plans but one detail constantly drew his attention; Alastor Moody – chief of the Auror Department. The reputation and status the man had… It would be a sin not to strike at it… To succeed in fooling an Auror of Moody's kind would certainly be an interesting achievement… but how to make it also very valuable?

Junior indeed hung on to Voldemort's every word just like he always hung on to his father's every word.

The Aurors were the most respected elite of the Ministry and the Death Eaters' enemy number one… How about enabling an easier thinning out the number of Aurors? The following night he spent doing background search and plotting his plan and by the morning light he was ready to go. It had some holes and risks but it was already Tuesday morning, so he decided to give it a shot. He needed to spare some time to form another plan if this one should fall apart.

The sun was still rising when a middle-aged man who had done a long and honourable career as an Auror, carefully opened the door of his home in London. As Junior had researched, this one often walked his way to work in order to keep up his shape and in hopes to catch some dark wizards. The first thing Junior saw was a wand giving off sparks, but it didn't worry him. He was standing beyond the Auror's private land and hiding under his father's invisibility cloak. The Auror cast a spell to check if there were anyone or anything on his land and as there wasn't, he stepped outside. He had taken only a few steps and didn't have time to even reconsider the safer travelling way that is disapparating, when Junior had already cast an Imperius Curse on him.

Friday's moon was already high when Junior apparated nearby the graveyard at Little Hangleton. He cast the spell and found that he was alone at the graveyard, so he didn't hurry in finding the tomb he was looking for. The moonlight didn't reach everywhere, so he lighted the tip of his wand. After many names and imagined stories for them, his wand's light caught the only name which story he knew anything about. During the week he had recalled bits of the speeches Dumbledore had kept at the beginning of the school terms during the worst years of the war. _Tom Riddle_. Murdered by his own son. Of course it didn't read on the stone, but it just as well might have. Junior stared at it for a moment and remembered Voldemort's real name; another little thing in common with him and the Dark Lord. One thing he was absolutely sure of; he would never hate his father _that_ much. He would never let himself be drawn that deep into the world of Death Eaters.

At the moment Voldemort was sitting in the Riddle house, sourrounded by a lot of his Death Eaters who reported to him, but Voldemort barely listened to them. No one offered interesting enough information and he cared more about coming up with a perfect place to hide his newest horcrux.

"...and then, my Lord, then the Longbottoms and their..."

Suddenly Voldemort lifted his gaze off the table and came crashing down to the current moment. No, he had hardly heard the Longbottoms names, but something still pulled him out of his thoughts. The Death Eater who had been explaining his doings grew silent, seeming somehow fearful.

_Someone_ had arrived at Tom Riddle's tomb. Voldemort stood up, sure of his feeling. All the Death Eaters stood up the very same moment as Voldemort, to pay respect to their master.

"The meeting is over," Voldemort said, "dismissed." The Death Eaters bowed down to him a little and disapparated without a word. Voldemort was left alone in the room but disapparated without further delay.

He arrived at the other side of the graveyard, pacing quickly through the paths between the graves, towards his father's grave. Voldemort stopped a few metres away from the man standing at the grave.

"Barty Crouch Jr.," Voldemort greeted him and glanced at the sky, "and just in time. I hope you bring me good news, my week hasn't been exactly pleasent." Voldemort glanced at his father's tomb stone, which Junior had been studying when he arrived, and then he gave all his attention to the young man.

"I do believe the news will make your week," Junior said as he glanced at Voldemort. He grinned to himself pleased and a bit amused. Lord Voldemort was to learn what his father had learned long ago; better be extremely specific with prohibitions because this kid was a master in finding a loop hole if he wanted to.

"First I want to remind that you forbid _me_ from entering the Ministry, so I did not enter. But you said nothing about making other people enter it on behalf of me," he started calmly as he looked down, digging a quill pen from the inner pocket of his cloak.

Voldemort well remarked Junior's somewhat smooth and cunning way of "breaking" a given instruction. But instead of getting angry at the boy's slight rebelling attempt, he was very pleased with his daring and especially with his ability to adapt.

"I went through my father's papers about the Auror Department and under his invisibility cloak I paid a visit at one of the Ministry's most trusted Auror's house, as he was leaving for work Monday morning. I imperioed him and gave him a new programme for the day, of course still from under the invisibility cloak," he spoke, fingering the quill pen in his hand, staring at it.

"I made him get certain lists from Alastor Moody, bring them back to his houe and give them to me," he told, pointed the quill pen with his wand and the pen transformed into a thin pile of parchments.

"Our trusted Auror gave to Moody a note signed by my father, authorizing the Auror to use these for work business. The note was of course faked by me. I used partly magic so that the trace wouldn't lead back to me should something go wrong, like Moody be paranoid enough to verify the note from my father. Moody, even though he's awfully paranoid and certainly not a trivial Auror, is an old family friend and I believed to trust my father and I assumed he trusts enough his honoured, long-term colleague too. So I believe the situation went well without bigger problems."

A serene smile on his face he reached the first valuable part of his report.

"Here," he held the papers out to Voldemort's direction, who silently and curiously took the lists the boy clearly believed to interest him. "You may find interesting the names and addresses of all students in all of the Auror Academies around Britain, in case affecting the future number of potential Aurors sounds useful idea or whatever else you choose to do."

Voldemort studied the parchments thoughtfully. The lists themselves already convinced him quite a lot – if they were as real and authentic as the boy claimed – but the rest of the story made him almost laugh devilishly. Public laughing just wasn't very suitable for a Dark Lord, so he restrained himself. A grin-like smile still twisted on his face as he listened.

"But I wasn't quite satisfied with this..." Junior went on. "You see, I knowingly took a great risk with choosing Mad-Eye Moody as my main target but I know the guy pretty well due to my family's personal link with him and more importantly I needed this trick to be revealed as soon as possible."

"Which is why I also before sending the Auror to do my business at the Ministry, gave to Daily Prophet's most trusted reporter an anonymous hint about something fishy going on at the Ministry's Auror Department. Then I caught her with an Imperius Curse, making her follow the Auror's every step in secret, taking a note of every single detail. Thus she was there to winess how Moody gave him those lists, how he gave them to an invisible person and yesterday, how the Ministry was in a chaos about the note having been a fake and the Auror under an Imperius Curse . The reporter knows that a Death Eater or another dark wizard has their hands on those lists and in detail – but not in too much detail – how it happened. Last night I stupefied the reporter and obliviated her memory so that she remembers only the anonymous hint and all that she saw as she stalked the Auror."

Junior sat on the tomb stone next to Riddle's.

"Soon enough people will read from the most trusted source in the society, how the Auror students are in danger thanks to Alastor Moody. I believe the Ministry will have to polish its image for a long time and quite in vain. Perhaps Moody will even retire? And I'd suppose the amount of future student applications at the Auror Academies will drop some ninety-nine percent even if you don't do anything, not to mention if you do choose to act."

Junior had relaxed on the tomb stone as if he was merely sitting at a terrace of a coffee house, and stared at Voldemort curiously.

"So, did I use my week well?"

Voldemort was indeed very pleased. Junior not only got such lists but also put the Ministry and the most famous Auror in Britain, into a bad light. And even media would be screaming about these events… And the events would most likely be related to Voldemort, but there would be no evidence. Not that evidence would've done any harm. Voldemort would've been just as well very pleased if Alastor Moody's humiliation had been evidently linked to his name. But for this situation was better that it couldn't be. Junior had proven he was able to cover the tracks that might lead the authorities to him.

Voldemort lifter his eyes from the lists to the boy, and lowered the list from in front of his face.

"Very impressive," he said clearly pleased. It was genuine, but it was now highly important that Junior felt it and knew that he was proud of his achievements.

"You have proven your words about your trustworthiness as entirely true," Voldemort said, pacing around the little open area where they were chatting.

"You've also shown a certain kind of courage," he went on, deciding to give a through feedback about the situation. At least the boy would receive the praises he probably longed for and Voldemort himself would be closer to winning over Barty Crouch Senior in Junior's eyes.

"Your way of in a way break the rule was very smooth," Voldemort went on calmly and thoughtfully, taking well considered breaks between. He glanced at the list of Auror students again and then looked at Junior without turning his head.

"The list will surely be very much needed," he said, "I will give it to a certain Death Eater to work on, unless you yourself want to damage the Academies even more." Voldemort looked at Junior for a while as if waiting for him to answer, but didn't wait after all but continued;

"Using the Imperius Curse on a trusted Auror shows strong will and your ability of even powerful curses," he took yet another break, thinking of next words. There was another grin-like smile on his face, but now more noticeable than when he was listening to Junior's report. With that smile he turned to Junior.

"And publicly humiliating Alastor Moody," he said, sounding extremely pleased, "you, boy, will become something supremely great. Moody, as you said, is not a trivial Auror. Certainly not. And you boy humiliated him at the age of eighteen!" Voldemort shook his head with a pleased smile on his face. He would've been downright happy at this point but having torn his soul into countless pieces by murdering, he was no more able to feel happiness, only satisfaction at the highest.

"Yes, I could say you used your week well," he finally said, giving an approving nod, "even better than I believed you would, to be honest."

Voldemort cast his pleased look at the list and became thoughtful again.

"So," he started again calmly and looked at Junior again, "do you yourself want to take care of the lists to…close down… the Auror Academies?" As he spoke he lifted the lists in his hands to put weight on his words. Voldemort didn't require Junior for this task, it was a mere suggestion. He was greatly interested what Junior could do with the lists but then again... If the lists were as authentic as he believed they were…

Junior who was basking at the praise and success to please Voldemort, considered well the words and tones, to interpret them correctly. Greedily he stared at the lists and moved restlessly. Ambition tempted him painfully but finally he was able to use common sense.

"Thanks a lot, it's more tempting than you know, but no thanks. I believe I might get a lot done for the matter, but if you want everything out of it in a minimum time, you better give it to someone else-someone who has more experience on Death Eaters and Aurors."

Voldemort put the parchments down and gave another approving nod. The boy had yet again thought along the same ways as he himself had.

"I would gladly see what you could do with these, but, as you wish. I'll give the task to others."

"I'll summon a Death Eater," Voldemort said, and Junior was already pulling on his hood. Voldemort summoned one of the insiders, known for his absolute loyalty. After a while a dark, smoke-like shape flew through the air and hit the ground in front of them. The shape formed into a man dressed in a long, black cloak.

"My Lord," the man said, bowing down slightly. Voldemort approached him with the parchments and handed them over to him. The man studied them curiously.

"Find out how authentic these are and then let me know," Voldemort said, "and then, we shall start acting on closing down the Academies." The man bowed down again, from the corner of his eye looking at the hooded person Voldemort was spending his night with.

"Go," Voldemort ordered. The man bowed down once more and disappeared as the same kind of smoky cloud as he had arrived.

Voldemort stared at the sky for a moment. The follower's short appearence could be of more use than just with the lists... Voldemort actually hoped Junior learned something of it, which was why he had chosen the one follower in particular. Voldemort was very strict on how he was treated and that man was quite… extreme in doing it right. Voldemort wanted loyalty shown, orders obeyed... and to be treated as the dignified person he was. The last mentioned he never said to his followers, but every Death Eater learned it in time - hopefully also Junior. Junior however, instead of studying the correct behaviour, had mostly stared at the stars and dreamt of his time as a Death Eater; especially of how he could be the best spy at the ministry right under his father's nose.

"I trust you understand," Voldemort said and turned his eyes to Junior, who was brought back to the moment and chose to listen carefully again as Voldemort went on, "that regardless of this great achievement of yours", the man said, taking a break to concider his next words. "I can not yet accept you into the inside circle. Basically you already are in my forces, but only the most trusted Death Eaters get the Dark Mark on their forearm." Again a short silence. Junior chose not to comment though he wasn't quite sure what exactly Voldemort still looked for in him.

"One more equally distinguished achievent, and you're an insider," Voldemort stated, looking at Crouch's boyish face, "no sense in prolonging it."

"I want you to know that not too many followers have managed to rise this fast into the inside circle," Voldemort said cunningly, to provoke the boy's need to feel himself important. And it worked as Junior's silent and serious being melted into obviously pleased. He hadn't even thought of that or would've dreamt of it if he had known there was a inside circle. He had just wanted to become a Death Eater, whatever it would mean.

"Thus, once you're in, I expect a lot from you" Voldemort added, "I believe in you and that you'll bring a lot of useful information from the Ministry. Do not disappoint me."

It was written all over Junior's face that it was the last thing he wanted to happen. He wanted to laugh at such remark but restrained it into just a grin. He just thought it a ridiculous idea that he could even accidentally disappoint. The man seemed to want him mainly as a spy in the Ministry, which was exactly what he himself wanted the most, too. Get to betray his father right beside him, do it his own way and perhaps find new and exciting ways to do so. And when added to how excited father would likely be when he asked for a place in the Ministry, getting a good place for information leaking, probably wouldn't be a big problem. He was about to say something, but Voldemort spoke again.

"But now… I have a new task for you," he started, "because you're now about to join the Death Eaters, I want to know that you can _kill_." Voldemort took a long break just studying the boy's face. Junior's being remained just as calm as before. He had never kiled, and he didn't know how to feel about it, while he was just like his father willing and usually able to do anything to achieve what he felt was right or needed. Also, he had always somehow imagined that killing with the curse might be somehow easy as it was quick and bloodless way.

"I want you to kill Sandra Cresswell," Voldemort said, "she's a muggle-born witch and currently works at Spell Damages at St. Mungo. This time I'll come with you," he said, "I will keep an eye on you and your doings but won't interfere in them unless I have no other choice…" He waited for a moment for at the mention of the name he thought he had noticed a startle on the boy's otherwise so expressionless face. It just was so quick and so small that he couldn't be sure if it had been real. The darkness at the graveyard might have tricked his eyes. So Voldemort didn't react on it in any way but continued to speak.

"Any questions?" he asked, "I'm ready to go when you are."

It indeed had been real and about the name. The witch was his mother's friend – fortunately not too close that of but close enough to strike grief and thus had Junior take a small step back for a second. There were things that made it matter relatively little and kept the boy's being calm. He himself didn't recall ever meeting this woman, and he had never formed much of an emotional bond to his mother, as a son. But he considered his mother a friend and loved her with all his heart. So, fortunate to him the friendship and love wasn't out of family ties whereas he'd always been a Daddy's boy whom mother had unintentionally raised to look at her as more of a slave and the friendship had been somewhat one-sided. Junior was thinking if Voldemort knew all of this or any of it? Was the identity of his required victim a coincidence or intentional?

During this brainstorm he had caught most of the essentials of the rest of Voldemort's words.

"No, no questions," he stated calmly, though somewhat absent-mindedly. He had started to stare at Riddle's grave again. It helped. He was to kill 'only' his loved one's friend, not his mother or father. For the first time in this matter, a doubt crossed his mind; was he really willing and able to do _anything_ to achieve what he felt needed or right – or rather, did becoming a Death Eater feel that needed or right? No, it didn't. But this task felt relatively easy to make through. Thank God Voldemort hadn't ordered him to kill a family member, or a child! At that point even his cunningness might not have been enough to wiggle out of the hook without ruining his chances. There wouldn't have even been loop holes to be found.

"So, you'll find me in front of Mungo. I'll start from there," he stated, put his wand inside his cloak, stood up and disapparated away. Voldemort stayed behind for a few seconds, pondering the reaction he thought he had seen. The boy hadn't even had any kind of questions…

As Junior apparated at Mungo, he pushed useless worries aside and focused on figuring out how to find this woman without drawing much attention to himself. Slowly he wandered to the fron yard from the side alley he had apparated to. He stood under a huge tree a few metres from the front doors, staring at them, thinking of ways to get to Cresswell's office unnoticed. An invisibilty charm was out of the question because of Voldemort. His first thought was to use the regular transformation spell to turn himself into someone. He would just need to avoid talking to anyone for half an hour. But whose appearance to take? Really he hadn't been there for even one minute but to him it felt like ten minutrs, and a thought of if Voldemmort was already sweating out there, watching him not doing anything.

Voldemort had never had anything to do with the hospital but he had heard from media and his followers that there were protection spells keeping dark magic out. If media was at all trustworthy, Albus Dumbledore had nothing to do with those protections. The Ministry of Magic itself had taken care of Mungo and Voldemort didn't believe such fools had come up with too extreme protection. A few Aurors seemed to be hanging around the building, added to the protection spells.

Voldemort thought for a moment. There was no sense in causing a chaos, as fascinating as doing so felt to him. A confundus charm would be too simple and there'd be no saying it'd be enough. And he couldn't afford a mistake. In the eyes of Junior (and other followers and enemies) he had to be flawless and always right… Even though it of course wasn't always the case, the illusion had to hold.

Couple of Healers passed by the alley where Voldemort was standing under an invisibility charm, and they gave him his greatest idea for the situation.

_"If the patient hadn't taken an over-dose of Polyjuice Pot__ion, he would've certainly…"_ Voldemort didn't hear any more. But there was his solution.

Voldemort dug a small bottle from his pocket, and shook it at his ear. There was a little potion left. Perhaps just enough for this. The potion would turn him into Mr. Karl Jones. Jones had worked at the International Magical Co-Operation department at the Ministry, but a week ago taken time off in order to solve some problems with his family. The family thought he was at work business in Berlin. In fact the man had died after meddling with things he had no business with. It could be said the man died by a self-inflicted accident.

Voldemort had made a Death Eater drink it and sent him to Germany, to discuss with their Minister of Magic about a possible alliance.

Now it was his turn to take the appearence. Fortunately the man had been pure-blood wizard, so in that aspect it didn't cause Voldemort an issue to do it. Although it did hit his self-respect; _he_ shouldn't have to do this kind of thing.

It was then when Junior realized that Sandra Cresswell's death was likely especially significant only in his own mind, because of who the witch was and that it was his ticket to being a full blown Death Eater. If only he didn't kill her in the wrong place, the Ministry wouldn't investigate it - the woman was pretty much nobody. The death would be automatically related to Death Eaters and thus there would be no harm in being seen at her working place around the time. He probably wouldn't end up into any awkward questioning situation as a potential witness. With that he calmly walked into the hospital and straight to the elevators, which turned out to be empty at the moment. On his way to the fourth floor he focused on thinking what he'd say if someone asked his business there.

After taking Karl Jones's appearance, Voldemort stepped calmly from the side alley to the street lighted with street lamps and followed Junior inside. He watched the numbers of the elevator to see which floor he stopped at, and then followed.

The task was quite simple and Junior felt frustrated with the possibility that he'd need to 'run' around the city to just find this woman. But fate was on his side (or against him, which he would one day bitterly come to see). Only a few moments into him stepping out of the elevator and hanging around the floor, someone spoke in a room couple of doors behind on the hallway he was walking along.

"Sandra, you work way too often over-time. Soon you'll start causing accidents instead of healing and fixing them," a friendly female voice said and Junior stole closer to the room to check if it was the right Sandra. From the large window, between its open shades, didn't show anything to reveal the last name, but then again he couldn't look in too closely. He had to go with whatever a sharp eye could spot while slowly passing by.

"I know, I know. I've already made a deal with my husband that this is my last night and we'll get out of country tonight. He'll come and get me from here in half an hour. Even though I'm especially powerful and skilled for a muggle-born, I don't dare to walk outside alone at this time of the day," the woman called Sandra said, sounding tired and was already packing her stuff. Junior smiled but only for a moment. He couldn't wait for half an hour, especially not with another wizard turning up then and making everything more complicated than it should get.

"Damnit!" he said to himself, clearly annoyed, though so quietly it was barely a whisper. He continued his slow walking, keeping an eye on the room. He started to look frustrated and impatient. He wanted this over and done with for many reasons. He didn't remember his personal issue with it though as the slight complicated turn and constant need to improvise kept his brain working on how to take it forward.

"Don't disappoint me, boy," a man whispered to him, passing by, having Junior to stare at him and the meaningful look the man kept at him. Junior became a degree more frustrated. He had already forgotten Voldemort was hanging around, watching probably his every move. The pressure of getting the job done flawlessly and quickly didn't exactly ease at this reminder. He was taking everything especially seriously, this close to the first point towards his goal. As a Death Eater he could relax a little and let his creativity out more freely.

Voldemort sat on a bench and pretended to read an issue of Daily Prophet though really he kept his eye on Junior, ready to follow in case he decided to leave the situation. But he couldn't help noticing the people in the photos of the magazine were trying to escape the frames, knowing that the person reading the paper wasn't who he claimed to be. Well, fortunately mere photographs couldn't talk. In the room Cresswell mentioned she'd go to the main entrance hall to wait for her husband. Junior headed to the elevators immediately, thinking of ways to take advance of the entity of what he had heard. He'd have well enough time to get the witch out of the building before the husband appeared.

The elevator's doors closed before Voldemort could even put the magazine down. He sat there staring after the boy perhaps a bit too openly and confused. Voldemort glanced at the room where Sandra Cresswell packed the last of her belongings into het purse. Voldemort turned his eyes back to the elevator doors as if to stare straight at Junior who had disappeared into it a moment earlier. Was the kid wrong in the head? Had he given up the game? Or had some great idea? Or all of those?

Sandra Cresswell paced out of the room and Voldemort started to leave too.

During the short way down in the elevator, Junior decided you can't get everything. He would have to run out of the picture for a while if he wanted this to be over in time. Before the doors opened, he cast an invisibilty charm on himself...

The doors opened with a loud 'bling' and he walked right out of the front door to notice what Voldemort had already. Junior made his way around the corner of the building and towards the back yard where he found couple of more Aurors. The other one seemed to be around his twenties, so Junior decided to take advance of that.

From behind the corner he silently cast a spell over the back yard to disable apparating and disapparating on it. Back at Hogwarts he had gotten to know it in means to find a way to cheat it for his own trips in and out of the school. He hadn't succeeded to do that, but he was able to make the spell work flawlessly. Then he cast a silent stupefy at the older Auror, and hit. The younger Auror was startled at him suddenly falling down and though Junior tried to be quick with another stupefying charm, the man turned around even quicker – 180 degrees while silently casting a selection of protection spells around him and his partner. Only then the man turned around and crouched down to check if the other one was dead.

Junior, unaware of the protection, gave another shot for the stupefy but naturally it failed. He couldn't start revoking the spells as he had no idea what and how numerous they were but he could assume they were strong. The Academies didn't take in just any wanna-be. After finding out his partner had only been stupefied, the young Auror stood up cool and calm even though he had no idea where the hit had come from. He lifted the charm off of the man. Junior grew a bit nervous – he didn't afford causing a big number. In order to minimize risks of outsiders hearing things they shouldn't, he cast another spell, making eavesdropping and over-hearing impossible. Because he was one step ahead of the Aurors, with his invisibility and surprise attack, he had time to think of their possible choices. Right now they might send out a sign of needing help, to the Aurors on the other side of the building. All the risks stirred good old sense of excitement in Junior. This time just a lot less than usually for succeeding in the plan was too essential to him.

The older Auror got back on his feet and the two discussed quietly for a short moment, which gave Junior a little time to figure out what to do. The Aurors however had come to decision that there wasn't a bigger attack going on since the situation was still so calm, so they didn't call for help and did step out of the protective area. They walked well apart from each other and away from each other, intenting to walk around the yard. Junior cast a muffling spell at his own feet and in silence started to follow the older man. The boy would've enjoyed every second of the challenge with all his heart and probably prolonged it if only he didn't have the deadline by Cresswell's husband, not to mention a psychopath breathing on his neck, probably already thinking something that wasn't true.

Voldemort indeed was standing in the entrance hall, casually studying a notice board. He pretended to be reading it but mostly glanced around himself, looking for Junior. The open main doors just spoke against the boy… God help the kid if he had run off and left him hang around Mungo all alone and for nothing…

Junior caught up with the Auror and silently wiped away his memories starting from the moment of being stupefied a while ago. Then he muffled the man's voice and made his movements almost completely impossible. The poor man no more knew where he had been going, couldn't get his voice out loud enough and even lifting a finger took him a hundred times longer than normally. None of this looked suspicious to the partner patrolling further away. Junior ran towards him as his steps were still silent. In a few seconds the Auror's mind went black with finally a succesfull, powerful stupefying charm. Further away the other Auror struggling under the numerous spells, didn't see this for he couldn't turn his head fast enough. Junior used transformation charm to take the young one's appearance, stole his wallet and turned him invisible.

He was pleased with his achievement seeing to how it had to be improvised under pressure. There was still no time to lose for the front yard Aurors might bump in at any given moment. Besides he'd already been out of Voldemort's sight for too long. He made himself visible and floated the real Auror's invisible body into a bush, which moved and rustled as the body was dropped there. In his disguise he calmly approached the remaining Auror, stupefied him and turned him too invisible. As he floated him to the same bush with the first one, he pondered to himself might getting that amount of strong spells over oneself at once, somehow leave side effects, especially as two of them were affecting the brains. Well, he'd find it out later. He would return to lift off the charms, if he remembered and bothered. Pleased, in the guise of the young Auror, he marched into the main hall of Mungo through the side doors.

He looked for Sandra Cresswell and his eyes met her reading a magazine on a bench nearby the main doors. Yet another risk was to be taken – what if Cresswell somehow knew this Auror and recognized the voice as not his? Or someone else nearby? For Voldemort he couldn't even muffle the area. Before doing anything he made sure Voldemort was even there and noticing Cresswell at least in some way, and even so he would have to make sure he'd get interested enough to follow them. Although Voldemort ought to recognize his voice by now, but just in case. Junior didn't want to talk more than necessary, so for a moment he just stood there, choosing his words carefully. After a short while….

"Sandra Cresswell, your husband is arrested at the Ministry," Junior anounced as he approached the witch, imitating the general being of the Auror he was supposed to be, in case other Aurors happened to be indoors at the moment for whatever reason. For the same reason he didn't speak too loudly, and of course because Aurors didn't shout out civilians' personal businessess to the entire world. "You need to come with me," he added and showed the photographed identity card and Auror badge in the Auror's wallet. This way Cresswell didn't even have the time to notice the voice as she immediately worried about her husband.

"What is he a suspect of?" the woman gasped, worried sick and stood up.

"Of being a partner in crime with a Death Eater," Junior stated extremely seriously as he lead the witch towards the side doors. The latest line had drawn Voldemort's full interest to the situation and he stopped cursing Junior for a moment. He stared after the two, putting together pieces of the situation and came to decision this was likely Junior in disguise.

"Ridiculous! He's a muggle-born too-" Cresswell started to grow angry through her confusion.

"I agree, ma'am, but judge Crouch doesn't leave any evidence unchecked," Junior cut her off, so that the situation wouldn't draw too much attention, glanced around them to see that no one but Voldemort was in any way clearly interested in them. And by the time Voldemort was sure Junior was still in the game. Junior and Creswell disappeared out of the side doors and Voldemort followed them from further away so not to cause Cresswell suspicion with a second man following them.

Junior planned to cast a powerful confundus charm on any Auror at the first sight but he was lucky enough to enter an empty backyard and be able to lead the woman further away.

For a while the two walked in silence, Cresswell deep in her worried thoughts of what had her husband meddled with and how, and Junior's thoughts getting room for what exactly he was doing. Now that he didn't need to constantly figure out what to do next. He could kill the witch at any moment he wished to. _'What does it feel like? Can I really do it? What if... what if I'm taking a mother away from some child? No! Death Eaters have families too yet Dad passes on them fate worse than death... Think of your father, think of the revenge... Think of easier life if Voldemort's goal-'_

"We're not disapparating?" Cresswell asked sounding confused, but still trusting as Junior lead her around the corner of another building and towards a muggles' play ground, which he reckoned to be less suspicious to Cresswell than some dark alley would be – and a place where no one would come in the middle of the night, at least not the first place to.

"Not yet. I have another official business I must take care of first. It won't take long," he stated calmly. He had to bring himself to do it quickly before he'd give up after thinking too much. "In fact, you can help me in it," he smiled at the witch, looking at her face. The two stopped between the sandbox and a slide. Mrs. Cresswell stared at the man, seeming willing to help as a good citizen and tried to push her worry about her husband aside for a moment.

"First I need to be sure you know the following spell," Junior stated as he took his wand out and lowered it a bit to seem harmless. Acting talent came even more useful at this moment when his excitement about the upcoming reward, yet also the uncertainty about killing his mother's friend and reluctance to kill at all combined to the doubt if the goal was even worth it, started to take over with increasing force.

Cresswell looked at him and waited. He didn't look at her and didn't wait but turned the wand to point at her.

"_Avada kedavra._" The words came out as quickly as they normally would but in his head they sounded horribly slowed down, uttered by someone else.

Rushing sound, blinding green light and the woman's body fell at his feet and on her back. Junior stood still, his arms hanging by his sides and clenching his wand in his hand. He stared at the death on her face, his own face empty, eyes absent-minded and dark. This wasn't the first time he saw a real, dead body, but this was the first that had taken part of him with it. For a moment he didn't know what was the most genuine emotion screaming inside him. Triumph was strongly on the surface but deep within he felt anguish and fear, and it pushed through. He was no more on the edge of the abyss, he was falling, falling faster. Would someone catch him or would he hopelessly hit the unknown, losing himself completely? This subconscious fear had him point his wand at him and transform his outside looks back to his own... His eyes remained fixed at the woman. The dead, innocent witch who'd had a family.

From the distance, Voldemort smiled again at his discovery and the deed it had done. Junior had done it quicker than he had expected. The boy had truly earned his place among his followers, although Voldemort wasn't going to let him go about unwatched even after the mark was on his forearm. He would keep an eye on the kid from distance, not necessarily so that Junior would know it – just in case. The boy had proven a lot about himself that night, but even killing a muggle-born didn't erase the fact that the boy was who he was.

Voldemort raised his wand, circled it around himself and transformed back into his own, charming self. Slowly and calmly he started to approach the playground. Somewhere from the distance sounded distressed screams as people began to notice and realize what the green light once again had been all about… Voldemort smiled to himself as he passed through the playground's gate towards Junior. Chaos, fear, crying, justice…

Voldemort took notice of Junior seeming to go through some inner battle but he supposed it was normal for someone who had killed for the first time in their life. He himself didn't know, he had felt absolutely nothing when killing his father all those years ago…

Voldemort stood by Junior's side for a moment, watching the dead witch too. Then he glanced behind him as he heard Aurors shouting behind them. He shook his head, feeling a bit frustrated and raised his wand into the air. A little, green ball of light shot into the sky and exploded into a gigantic, green skull, which opened its mouth... a snake crawled out of it.

The screaming around them multiplied and the horror in them increased as the Dark Mark took over the night sky. Voldemort cast one last look at the distant people until he laid his cold hand on Junior's shoulder.

"Time to return to Hangelton, boy," and at that moment the two disapparated, apparating back to the graveyard at Little Hangelton, far from London's chaos.

Voldemort let go of the boy and determinately paced away from him. Junior was still in the same, unreal state of mind as a moment ago in London. For a moment his mind couldn't register anything but the woman's dead face, the green light on the ground and the cold touch on his shoulder. And then everything was suddenly dark and silent. He hadn't really even registered the chaos. He couldn't be completely sure he had even left this graveyard.

"You showed you can kill very easily," he heard someone say as he stood there starring at the ground like a living statue decorating the graveyard. The words echoed in his mind without fully registering. What did 'easy' have to do with any of this? Was the voice talking about him? He supposed he had killed… but 'very easily'? No, not him. It was someone else. It would always be someone else even if by his hand. But he knew to some people quick equalled easy, which was ridiculous but he left it unsaid. Still he knew he had changed forever. He was just sweetly ignorant how huge step he had just taken away from the safe path, from a chance for a happy life. He didn't understand just now that there was no turning back if he took even one more step.

"You did exactly as I told." Voldemort said, looking at the boy, studying his absent-minded being.

"You've earned your reward." Voldemort went on, turning Junior's inner world upside down. _This_ was something that the real Barty Crouch Junior could register and he held on to the words in a heart-beat. Voldemort had turned to look at Junior and raised his wand. Into the air in front of him he had drawn a pitch black, touch of poison green glow on its linings, skull which mouth slowly opened and let a snake crawl out. Junior was again fully aware of the moment, he stood still, his intense gaze fixed at the shape in the air. He looked like he'd never seen anything more fascinating.

_'Murderer!'...'Traitor!'_, someone screamed deep within him, but he barely heard. He recognized this moment as one he had fantasized about for so many years. How he had come to this was insignificant for the moment…

Together the skull and the snake formed the Dark Mark. Voldemort held his wand up, pointing at the shape he'd created. But his penetrating gaze was held at Junior, who he noticed still partly experiencing the inner battle. It took so long…

"Unless you're hesitating after tonight's events?"

The question and the gaze combined to his suppressed subconscious battle had the boy startle and grow annoyed. He over-came it easily, for all he needed to recall was the pain he had been in Monday morning and he got all the determination and self-assurance back to his being and voice.

"No."

Part of him still refused to register the kill and part of him carried the calmness and certainty in by not wanting it to have been in vain. Head held high and with calm pacing Junior approached the Dark Lord and his mark. As he stopped, he pulled up his cloak and shirt's sleeve, baring his left forearm.

"I'm ready." His voice was steady and certain as if nothing had changed since that Friday night week ago but he stared at the mark instead of Voldemort.

Voldemort stared at him for one more moment until gave a small, approving nod. This boy was so much like the other Death Eaters yet at the same time so very different.

Voldemort smiled at the fascination on his face. To the boy the mark might mean just a tattoo, but to Voldemort it was more of a way to mark his possessions; once the mark was on, Junior would be his until the day he died. As he had warned the boy a week ago at Knockturn Alley, becoming a Death Eater could not be a whim. Voldemort couldn't really care less if the boy knew what he was doing. After this he would be a Death Eater until the end of time whether he wanted it or not. Of course Voldemort wanted good, loyal followers but in this case it didn't matter if the boy ran to his Daddy immediately after this was over. The Dark Mark on the kid's arm would in any case be a monstrous blow to Crouch.

"Alright," Voldemort answered Junior and said no more. Slowly he brought his wand downwards and along it moved the glowing shape in the air towards Junior's forearm. It turned in the air to fit the arm, approached it …closer…closer… Junior's eyes followed it. It was now right on his skin, he could feel its hot touch it as if it was a physical tool heated in a fire. Even without that he'd known enough of tattoos to expect it might hurt – even though it may not be exactly like a tattoo and was magic, it was related to very dark that of. So he didn't make a sound, but grinned in pain, closing his eyes tight and had to fight not to pull his arm back when the shape started to very, very slowly eat into his skin like heated, sparkling iron. The mark was pitch black and swelled on his arm. Voldemort held his wand still for a moment longer until laid it down.

Barty Crouch Jr. was now his marked possession.

Junior opened his eyes that were still cast at his arm. Though the hurt on his arm was great, as he saw the pitch black mark the pain in his eyes gave room for a spark of pleasure.

"When I summon you, you come to me," Voldemort spoke after a while, in a commanding, cold tone, "the Dark Mark is not just a tattoo but it tells you where you must be and when and when it does so, you obey, no matter what situation you're in." Voldemort took a short break and glanced at the house on the nearby hill.

"It works both ways," he said as he turned his eyes back to Junior, "the only difference is that I don't have to obey." Voldemort snorted coldly.

"So if there's something _especially important_ that I should immediately know about, you may summon me." Voldemort put a careful emphasis on the words, for he really didn't want to visit any of his followers for just any reason. Though he knew Junior was smart and would've realized this on his own anyway.

Junior still stared at the beautiful mark, which indeed was nothing much more than a gang tattoo to him at this time of his life. In his mind he went through all that had just been said, which immediately raised questions. Someone had to have asked them before? A wonder if hadn't – but no matter – he'd gladly be the first. He believed he could leave just about any social situation without significant problems or at least excuse a sudden leave afterwards. But Voldemort sounded so strict about the call being obeyed and certain that every single one of the loyal ones would.

"I see, but I'd still have a few specifying questions about answering the call," he stated calmly as he lifted his extremely interested look at Voldemort's face.

"Sure I'm damn good but not perfect; someone might hit even me," he started, fighting off a bit of a mocking grin that threatened to creep on his lips. Come on, had _no one_ questioned that man's attitude on this since the man still had spoken about in that absolute tone? About a time to question then, he thought to himself.

"And I can't stay awake night and day," he went on, just in time managing to restrain his bratty nature that made him defy or mock authority figures for the sheer fun of it instead of just politely question things – with the exception that was his father who he didn't dare to openly disrespect too often except in personal fights at home. He now had a respectful feel to his being. After all, so far Voldemort had given no reason for disrespect. It was quite the opposite; the man had been nothing but good to him.

"So, as the call comes, does it revoke any charm or curse and does it wake a person in deep sleep?" he then asked as the two stared at each others' face.

Voldemort gave a laugh.

"No, the mark doesn't revoke any spell or curse. It's just a mark. A call..." Voldemort grinned slightly, shaking his head.

"But yes, I'm quite sure that Death Eaters in a deep, natural sleep will awake," he said. He didn't bother to notify that the mark started to sting and burn and it would increase if the order wasn't obeyed. The boy would surely come to find it out on his own. Junior though he already had a pretty good idea what that meant. If taking this mark had been that painful, the call couldn't possibly be very pleasant. He nodded in understanding.

"How about if I'm in a place where it's impossible to disapparate and it takes a good while to get into a place where it is possible? How fast must we be? I mean on my free time I naturally hang around pretty much anywhere. And _in example_ at the Ministry of Magic it is impossible to disapparate or even get out in any way without extra control and checking and God knows what, thanks to… us." At the last word he finally realized he had actually done it; he was a Death Eater! His eyes were filled with curiosity about the future, and the excitement of the beginning of a new life. The murder committed a while back was at the moment nothing more than a ghost in the back of his mind, and he didn't remember he might have to do it over and over again.

Voldemort took a little break to think about the question. He would've liked to say that it wasn't his problem in which situation a Death Eater was at the call or how much difficulties there was to leave it. Besides he was sure he could arrange much more problems to Death Eaters who didn't show up than they might have with quick leave. They'd chosen their path themselves. Voldemort however restrained himself and peacefully thought of a better answer for this specific Death Eater and his purpose with him. If he showed even the slightest nonchalance at this point of their shared path, Junior's doubts of his choice's rightfulness might spark immediately. And Voldemort really wanted more the boy's loyalty than that the boy would fear him.

"Of course one can't always answer the call immediately," Voldemort started slowly, "especially in your case. However, the same rules apply to you too; you must have an especially good and valid reason to not come when I summon you. Of course it is very difficult to leave the Ministry quickly, but I believe you are able to take care of it so that I won't have to wait all day." Voldemort silenced to think. Junior must have gotten very different impression of him during this week than any other Death Eater had. The impression though was in no way wrong, Voldemort hadn't (at least in his own opinion) lied to the boy at any point, or to any other Death Eaters for that matter. He didn't bother to lie, he prefered leaving things untold. Besides, Junior's impression of him would change throughout the years. There was no doubt of it.

"Of course I never tolerate being late," he stated truthfully, "but for a good reason I can accept it. Not showing up at all is a completely different matter…"

Junior seemed satisfied with the answers and to have faith in himself being able to live with the rules. He pulled his sleeve back down, and remembered a few more essential questions.

"How does the summoning practically work if we need to summon you?" he asked casually, for he wasn't really interested in summoning Voldemort but who knew what situation the years would bring. If only he'd known their 'years' would fall awfully short, that the mark's power would be useless in mere four months, he probably wouldn't have bothered to even ask. At this point he was excited, hopeful and curious, but not really devoted.

"You press _your own_ wand's tip on the mark and intensively think that you want to meet me," Voldemort answered the question, "weight on that the wand must be your very own, no one else's wand will do for this purpose."

"And you can not summon another Death Eater to you," Voldemort added with a little snort, "I keep it as my own privilege."

What would become of it if every Death Eater could summon each other whenever they wished. Voldemort got shivers even out of the thought of it. Even though Voldemort believed himself to be the mightiest wizard in all the world, deep within he feared that his Death Eaters (as loyal as they were or at least claimed to be) someday might make the mistake of turning against him…

"Are we free to go solo and cast the Dark Mark, or is it all about group work?" Junior asked, looking up at the few stars that were trying to cast some comforting light into the darkness of the suffering world. He sounded much more interested in this matter, after all it was an essential aspect of his vengeance trip. Although he wasn't quite so sure anymore if he wanted to kill unless he had to. Certainly he wouldn't torture anyone as long as he could avoid it in any way... But he had fallen in love with the Imperius Curse at the first time of using it. He had left untold a few details about the case, reckoning they might have decreased his credibility as a potential Death Eater. But he had wanted to see if the curse indeed was as effective and all-powerful as they'd claimed...! And he couldn't quite imagine too many Death Eaters, not to mention Voldemort himself, using the curse in as colourful and humorous ways as he had and intended to do in the future… Among the dark and serious ways.

"You're free to go solo," Voldemort asnwered, he too looking at the stars, "and to cast the mark into the sky when you consider it appropriate, as in after a murder. Of course you may adapt the use of it too, but you must do it well considered. I mean, if you in example transform another Auror into a chicken, I most certainly do not want to see the Dark Mark in the sky for that deed." Voldemort gave a chilly laugh though he couldn't have been more serious. The Mark was supposed to stir horror and fear as well as tell about a murder. If any Death Eater at any point made its credibility questionable, that would be a former Death Eater. Voldemort was very proud of the Mark and truly hoped his followers understood it too. Junior had turned his eyes to Voldemort and was watching and listening to him as if he was his favourite teacher at his favourite subject at Hogwarts. He didn't comment on the Mark matter but he completely understood its cool and frightening dignity and wouldn't even dream of ridiculing it with his occasional, childlike games.

A little voice inside him still cried out that each step, however playful and light, was towards destruction… A louder voice claimed that he was still safe because of who he was; Voldemort's best weapon against the Ministry and the only person who the judge wouldn't send to Azkaban just for being a Death Eater. He couldn't begin to imagine what his father would do if he ever found out but Junior was sure he wouldn't find himself in Azkaban. He remembered well seeing it in his father's eyes a few summers ago after that certain school year… That when the man was looking at his son, he realized what kind of a place Azkaban was. He would not send him there.

"In a group situation," Voldemort went on, "if there's a need for the Mark, the wizard or a witch who committed the murder, will conjure it. Tonight I did it for you after your crime, because first of all you weren't a Death Eater yet and second of all, I didn't think you'd know the spell yet. Very few do, in fact only the Death Eaters in my inside circle. So, it is time for you to learn the spell."

"Morsmorde," Voldemort said without raising his wand, "will cast the Mark in the sky. It's a very simple charm when you know it, but it's all the more reason to remember; use it _consideredly_. I don't want people to get the wrong idea about the Mark."

Voldemort looked at Junior for a moment, then raised his wand, waved it and conjured "Morsmorde!" Again his wand shot a green ball of light into the sky, which took the shape of a giant skull as it reached above the tree tops at the graveyard. The skull's mouth opened slowly and a giant snake began to crawl out…

"Now, it's your turn." Voldemort turned to look at Junior.

"Conjure your first Mark… as a symbol of your first murder."

Junior might have remained very relaxed and in light state of mind until the end if only the _murder_ that _he_ had just committed wasn't pointed out again. It was still too fresh for a boy who hadn't been raised to be a killer, although – as now proven – he was capable of it with enough motivation and the right state of mind. The smile on the boy's face faded and the look in his eyes grew dark and cold as he looked up to the sky again. This time his mind wouldn't let him think of it as a symbol of a murder but as a symbol of a new life. A life he hoped to be what he was looking for.

"_Morsmordre_," he conjured, his wand arm steady and pointing up to the sky. His fascinated eyes watched the little ball of light fly high and take the shape of an evil looking skull and a snake in its mouth. Junior watched as it painted the sky with colours of death right beside the Mark conjured by the Dark Lord... The boy was thrilled. And he thought it was beautiful.

"It's perfect," Voldemort said to Junior, keeping his eyes on the Marks above them. After a while he sighed and turned his pleased look at the boy.

"Now that you're officially a Death Eater and enjoying my trust," Voldemort said taking a short, observing break, "you can get yourself into the Ministry and start your _job_ in the court room." Voldemort smiled and glanced at his father's grave. The grass behind the tomb stone moved slightly and soon a pitch black snake crawled out. Voldemort smiled at it.

"Nagini," he said as the snake crawled up his body and on to his shoulders. Voldemort pet the snake's head with his long, bony fingers and turned to look at Junior who was taken in even more than by the Dark Mark brand in the air. Whatever had ever been more memorable than the Dark Lord with a big, black snake on his shoulders. The snake looked at the boy too. Voldemort smiled again.

"Nagini came to wish you luck," he then said glancing at the snake, "we hope your new job will prove useful to us all." At that Voldemort gave Junior a nod and a look to say that the discussion was over. He felt it pointless to tell the boy he was expecting his first report quite soon, so he left it unsaid. Voldemort smiled still, glancing at Nagini once more, turned around and started to walk leisurely towards his house. Junior could not see though he stared after them, but Voldemort no more held back the utter pleasure he felt but had a genuine and cold, devilish smile on his face all the way to his house.

The morning sun rose in a completely different atmosphere than ever before, to Barty Crouch Jr. anyway. He was sitting on his bed that hadn't been used, leaning his back on the head wall, legs stretched and his hands resting on his lap. He was staring out of the window. His mind had locked away last night's murder, only the imprint was there and probably would spread all over like a poison the next time he'd have to do it but he wasn't thinking of the darker side of his chosen path now. He was feeling good and relaxed for the first time in years. He had returned home for the first time since Monday morning and had spent the night thinking of ways to go through the unavoidable discussion without completely ticking off - because even though he now had something strong, promising and relatively pleasant to hold on to with a firey vengeance, he feared his pain was stronger. Because in the silent moments when no one wanted anything from him and there was nothing distracting his thoughts, he couldn't deny that he loved his father. It had turned blue and angry and they'd grown awfully distant in the close relationship they used to have… But it was still true love none the less.

"Junior…? How are you?" Barty asked as he appeared at the door of his son's room. Junior didn't even glance at him with his first thought of why the hell was the man not already at work.

"Alive," the boy stated the obvious in neutral tone without any intent to give a proper answer. It didn't bother Barty though, for that had been his main concern for the past few days. Though he knew his child was talented fighter and powerful in magic, he couldn't help but worry he might lose his entire family during this war. Whatever the boy might think, he loved both him and the mother equally much. He just naturally had very different hopes with either of them. If the kid worked at the Ministry so long as the war was on, he could stress a little less. The Ministry of Magic was the safest place in the wizarding world after Gringotts and Hogwarts.

"Have you completely given up on me?" he asked. The sadness in his tone startled Junior to feel something he'd forgotten during the week. There was still a moment of silence between them but then he said it out loud.

"No," Junior then said very quietly but sincerely. "Not completely," he added and finally turned to look at his father.

"Thank you," the man said just as sincerely and was too relieved to catch the darkly amused tone in the quiet laugh Junior let out as the boy wondered what would be in those words place if only he told what was beyond the hope they both apparently still held on to.

"And you know what, Dad, I've given a lot of thought to it this week," _'well, enough anyway,'_ he added in his mind and took a little break to think how to play his card just perfectly.

"Perhaps it wouldn't be all that bad to work for the Ministry. I mean, I've decided that it would be kinda cool to use my skills for the good of our society," he stated and found it somewhat ironic he could say this without lying at all. But the only reason he could was because of the mark on his forearm. Without it and the plan it had sealed, he couldn't bring himself to do this. Plus, the plan even gave him the chance to use his favourite talent; acting. It would never be the way he had dreamt but the second best, perhaps. So he looked at his father with genuine interest and willingness.

"But, Dad, that is only if you can get me a job at the Department of Law Enforcement. Preferably related to your job as much as possible because, Dad," he kept saying 'Dad' first and foremost because he reckoned that after this week it prtobably hit home every time and would provoke the man to agree.

"I want to spend more time with you even if it meant only work," he reasoned quite sincerely too. That just hadn't been motive enough until today. Barty stared at him and feared he was dreaming. This was perfect. Perhaps it would not only keep the boy safe but also bring them closer to each other again.

"You got it, son. You won't regret this," the man said softly. Junior's smile widened as he turned his face to the window.

"Nope, I bet I won't," he stated calmly, suppressing the excitement that threatened to over-whelm. He couldn't let it, it would've been out of character in his father's eyes, seeing to all that had been said and done before.

'_No more fights,'_ Junior thought to himself, _'only justice.'_

**~Fini~**

**A/N** There are three (3) relationship related themes in this chapter that I mean with the chapter title 'The Constant'. Can you guess what they might be? **A/N**


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